


Did You Lock the Door?

by whoreshi



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Arson, Blood and Violence, Brutality, Cannibalism, Catholic Imagery, Character Death, Christianity, Dreams and Nightmares, Drug Use, Fist Fights, Gore, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Murder, Patricide, Post-Apocalypse, Religion, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Uxoricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-20 16:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19380451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoreshi/pseuds/whoreshi
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic era, can something still go right? With nothing but broken shards of his soul, Jongho seeks to find an answer and discover who he is.





	1. Yesterday's Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Ateez fic and I wrote it for most of my darkest days to calm myself down for a bit. It's pretty dark and not for the sensitive so I hope y'all settle down and enjoy an unsettling ride :))) Just make sure you don't look behind you :P  
> [here's the link to the Spotify playlist, it'll be much more enjoyable if you listen to the songs while reading ;) ](https://open.spotify.com/user/mmt9xtv75qt9tvzth27j11u3m/playlist/5Frn3bzwJSA1VLkDN2QP9z?si=60bHLplBQl63rmIpci5iVQ) \+ I update everyday at 1pm kst btw!!

Under the starless night he sets foot to start a journey he desires.  
  
Except he doesn't believe in such a thing as a journey.  
  
Choi Jongho is a normal student trying to get his way through the hellish clutches of university just like anyone else. He’s broke, barely have any coins, and had long decided to stay at the uni’s dorms for his four years of roller coaster experience for less tax evasion.  
  
On the dark side, Choi Jongho never had any spiced experience in his life. Sure he had friends, some rebellious and defiant, but Jongho always refused to be dragged into bars, join in underground gangs, or consume illegal drugs. He is clean and neat, always tidy and well-ordered. He’s one of the top students in the prestigious university. No matter how much he hated everything; the uni, his profile as student Choi Jongho, his title as one of the wittiest people in the whole university, the hustle of the busy city – he always sought ways to make himself feel proud, even at times when he feels like he's barely hanging in there.  
  
He misses graduating, the oh-so euphoric feeling of being free from the seizing grips of high school that he had forgotten about how he was slowly getting one step closer to a more wicked ride towards his dreams. Did he still have hopes in reaching dreams? The answer is a big no, yet he continues to exert efforts to impress his family. After all, he had an image to keep to himself; key conclusion: there was a side of the infamous Choi Jongho no one is aware of.  
  
Broke as hell, he has financial problems. Jongho pretty much lives in the dorms every day, but when he graduates and gets to be out of the university to search for a job, will he pay for the dorm tuition? No, he has a scholarship to display as his pride. Nonetheless, he never chose to take transportation and always went for walks no matter how far his destination was. That was exactly why he, out of all options, chose to walk all the way to a rundown store to find materials needed for his project.  
  
“Is anyone here?” He calls out, knocking on the rusty door twice. He didn’t know whether to feel regretful or satisfied with the fact that he came here at seven in the evening; but then again, it wasn’t his fault to begin with. He and a junior named Lee Junyoung had to be left behind in the library to finish rearranging books as demanded by the librarian herself, to which Jongho expressed great dismay since he never liked being an apprentice.  
  
Three knocks in and the door haven’t been answered yet. Only when Jongho was ready to yell his lungs out by warming his throat and his voice resonates throughout the narrow alley, the door swung open with an unpleasant creaking sound.  
  
“Good morning to you, young man,” greets a man in his early twenties with grey ash hair. Jongho quizzically narrowed his eyebrows at him.  
  
“Sir, it’s past seven in the evening.”  
  
“Oops, we lost track of time again,” butts in another man with black hair with red streaks. He turned to Jongho, the younger man not really bothered with how they spoke. He smiles. “Come in, dear customer. Pardon us since we don’t have clocks here.”  
  
“That’s funny. How do you do business if you don’t keep track of time then?” Jongho taunts, stepping in the concrete floor as the man kicks the door close.  
  
“We do it everyday anytime. We have our own routines to follow basically every morning, afternoon and evening.”  
  
Jongho pretends to be amazed at the man’s response, nodding his head with his mouth shaped ‘o’. The grey-haired man gestures to him to head to the counter inside, which was near the inner part of the store. Scratch that, it seemed more like an abandoned warehouse converted into a cozy home.  
  
As he was accompanied by two people, five more were lounging around and salutes Jongho with warm smiles and friendly waves. Though one thing for sure: Jongho sensed that their simple actions were a facade.  
  
One of them initiated a conversation with each other, to which Jongho decided to secretly listen to.  
  
“Hey Yeosang, remember when you lost my bet with you?”  
  
“Yeah. Wasn’t that when Yunho applied wood glue on Mingi’s face?”  
  
“HEY! I DID NOTHING!”  
  
“Shut the fuck up Mingi, you accidentally knocked out all of the stocked boxes when I already organized them just this morning.”  
  
“Nothing can top from when Seonghwa hyung placed a Scotch double-sided tape on San’s dick.”  
  
“I agree, it took him days to peel that shit off.”  
  
The moment Jongho stood in front of the counter where their manager was, he freezes in terror. Despite hearing their banters and jokes that were on another level, Jongho stayed calm and composed.   
  
The manager gives him a concerned smile. “Sorry about what you just heard. These people are just insane. So, welcome to our business! I’m Kim Hongjoong, the manager. What can we do for you, dear uni student?”   
  
“Wooden boxes with framed glass panes. I’ll explain the detailed designs later if needed, but the question here is can you build it for me?”  
  
“Of course, we surely can.” Hongjoong answers, the proud smile still not wiped off his face. “We’ll try our best in aiding you with your uni requirements.”  
  
“Does this have tax or no?”  
  
The manager shakes his head. “No tax needed. We don’t work to earn, we work to survive.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Ever since Jongho stepped in that shady warehouse, he began to be wary that something was definitely off. He spaces out throughout the whole hour of his biochemistry class and never blinked. He keeps his focus on the window.  
  
It's time for his microbiology lecture, and Jongho was about to space out again but somehow got distracted by the girl sitting in front of him. With the professor’s monotonous voice echoing, Jongho dissembles to be listening as he let his eyes remain glued on the girl’s hand resting on her armchair. Jongho definitely wasn’t expecting to see her arm grow thinner every second till only the skinny bone was left. Before he could shrug it off and believe it was just a hallucination, something that fell on the girl’s desk caught Jongho’s attention.  
  
The girl seemed to be silently weeping in the middle of the lecture. There were tears now speckled on her desk.  
  
They were red.  
  
  
  
  
  
Not even an hour to quarter past three yet and Jongho feels his stomach grumble. Frowning, he storms off his last lecture and darts out of the campus. He heads to the nearest convenience store to afford some cups of ramen and new skincare products. He then spots a familiar person seated on one of the chairs. Much to his surprise, he was smoking, breathing out a puff of smoke.

  
After Jongho paid for his necessities, he approached the man whom he certainly recognized. Jongho had no fear. He’d definitely seen that man less than twenty-four hours ago.  
  
“Hey,” Jongho utters with a tap on the shoulder. The man whips his head to see him.  
  
“Oh hey!” The man beams. “Aren’t you the latest customer? I saw you last night!”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongho chimes, chuckling. “You were the one who mentioned you guys don’t really keep track of time. Yet here you are, at a public store and actually interacting with the sun. It sounds laughable for an outsider like me.”  
  
“You don’t know things. I can see it that way. I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Choi San, a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
“You all have seen my name in your record book,” Jongho says as he takes the vacant chair in front of San. Now face-to-face with him, Jongho looks at him in the eye. “Honestly, I’ve been weirded out by people nowadays. Is there something big I’m missing out?”  
  
San dramatically gasps. “Oh dear young boy, why are you only asking that now? The way I see it, you’re outdated with what’s happening in this corrupt world! Haven’t you read daily newspapers? What about opening the internet? Watching news broadcasts?”  
  
Jongho furrows his eyebrows at San’s frantic yelling. “I don’t really keep myself updated. In fact, I have nothing to keep in touch with. What’s all the worry anyway? You look like you’ve seen a ghost after knowing I know nothing.”  
  
“Jongho, boy, the world is failing us.” San hitches his breath. “We’re currently living in a post-apocalypse season. The earth is going to be extinct soon. According to scientists, there is a growing hole on the earth’s inner core, which will then result to lava bursting out of the ground in many different parts of this planet. At the same time, comets will continuously start crashing. The supply of oxygen keeps lessening, the ozone layer is starting to break, even plants are decaying. Everyone is going to die.”  
  
Jongho gapes at San’s declaration. “What? I knew nothing, how come?”  
  
San shots him a sorry look. “They are too scared to mention it. People worldwide just keep on praying and sending prayers, but they never mouth a word about it due to extreme fright. Do you hear people from your school talking about it? No, right? The same goes for them.”  
  
“Wow,” Jongho’s eyes twinkle, dazed. “That’s… Thrilling. We’re going to die soon?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“ _Too_ soon?”  
  
“I’m not sure. There’s still no exact date yet as to when the world is going to meet its end.”  
  
“Wow,” says Jongho for the second time. “Now I want to ask you why you and your coworkers are so damn wild and risky.”  
  
“Ah that,” San guffaws. “There are a lot of illegal platforms online where we can actually gain money by simply doing a live stream. They exist for a reason I can’t quite explain, and some of us are the top players of a gaming site.”  
  
“Holy…?” Jongho trails off in bafflement. “Is that why someone placed a Scotch double sided tape on your manhood?"  
  
San whines, “Hey, don’t bring that up! That was hella embarrassing, I felt like my dick had left its soul for two days long. The fact that it was Seonghwa hyung who did it just straightass add up to my dark history.”  
  
“Who’s Seonghwa?”  
  
“The oldest among us.” San states. "The blondie."  
  
“Well shit, that’s burdening.”  
  
“I know right,” San sighs. “Whatever, at least a clip of Mingi slipping again and again in an ice skating rink exists in Hongjoong’s phone. But did you know Wooyoung went viral on social media after Yunho uploaded a video of him driving to In n’ Out while masturbating in the car?”  
  
“You were saying?”  
  
San flinches upon hearing the well-known voice. Both he and Jongho avert their attention to the person.  
  
"Hey Wooyoung," San casually greets. "For what are you here?"  
  
"I came here to drag you back to the warehouse," Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms. "But instead I hear you shit talking about what has happened before."  
  
"At least admit it, what I said isn't a made up story!" San clenches his teeth. "The evidence is on the internet. I speak the truth. I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me."  
  
Jongho giggles awkwardly, "So Wooyoung, what about the warehouse?"  
  
Wooyoung pushes up his glasses, delicately adorning his nicely curved nose bridge. "Just business. We have another quick order due tonight. Hongjoong hyung needs San for that since it requires–"  
  
"Drilling," San widely smiles. "I'm good with drilling, if you want me to drill a hole in your wall for your pet mouse like Jerry, I'll gladly be at your service."  
  
"You seem passionate," Jongho comments with a laugh.  
  
"Always," San answers confidently, hitting his own left chest with his fist. It's not a matter of time until Wooyoung mutters a soft 'bye' to Jongho before pulling San by the ear as they exit the convenience store, leaving Jongho alone by the table.  
  
What he feels isn't so familiar. He's used to being alone, but for once this time it actually hurts. And it hits him, he feels comfortable around the carpenters due to their friendliness, even though he hasn't known them for twenty-four hours.  
  
He heaves a sigh. The world is massive, yet it can't last that long. So is one's life.  
  
  
  
  
  
Not even afternoon yet and like a high school drama cliché, Jongho accidentally bumps into a girl in the middle of the school hallways. Jongho loses grip of his bottled milk he recently bought from the cafeteria and shifts his attention to the fallen girl, ignoring his spilled milk left untouched on the floor.  
  
"Miss," he calls out. "Are you okay?"  
  
The lady, however, didn't respond. Jongho lends her his hand to help her get up to her feet, yet she didn't look up to him and kept her focus fixated on the cold tiles. She clutches her head, not caring if her hair was disheveled, shivers running down her spine. Jongho raises an eyebrow at her anxious actions.  
  
Jongho finally bends down to her level, patting her head to catch her attention. She gradually tilts her chin up, their eyes locking together. Jongho pities her orbs that were full of anxiety, and only then when her hands fell senselessly on her sides did Jongho notice the fresh blood splattered on her palm.  
  
"R-Restroom..."  
  
Jongho's breath hitches. Upon hearing what the girl had said, Jongho encourages her to go to the clinic and maintain her emotional breakdown. He then sprints towards the nearest restroom situated at the end of the hallway, barging into the ladies' restroom. Jongho doesn't care if he was currently violating the rules by walking into the ladies only zone. It was to satisfy his curiosity and be a witness to something somehow.  
  
His heart sank to his feet when he discerns the dead body hanging from the ceiling. It belongs to a junior of his, one from the literature field. His eyes were bulged open, his skin so pale anyone would think he's made out of fragile glass. Jongho covers his nose and mouth to quickly avoid exhalation of the foul odor. He unearths his phone from his pocket and immediately called the nearest police station.  
  
The incident that morning was straightened out by the police. The students were advised to avoid going past the restroom due to agents' further investigations. Jongho was relieved to know there are people actually willing to wash up the body, give the victim a clean record in honor of his death and mourn over his successful suicide attempt. Otherwise he'd really lost faith in humanity.  
  
Bored in class, he looks out to the window invariably and drowns out his professor's humdrum voice. The topic doesn't interest him, and Jongho gets impatient every second ticking by. The sound of the clock reaching his loud hearing sense makes him even more infuriated.  
  
He surely does want to escape the four wall classroom and go back straight to the dorms, but what he wasn't expecting was to watch an exciting soccer practice on the school's ground from above. He shifts his glances from the various players, pausing at a particular person who turns out to be the goalkeeper of the team.  
  
Jongho squints to get a clearer look of the goalkeeper, flinching when he vomited blood and his insides but in coffee ground color and texture, collapsed and hit his head on the concrete ground. His teammates gathered around him with much concern and panic, yelling for help.  
  
Another incident.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Can I borrow this for a few days?"  
  
The librarian turns around to smile at Jongho, who was holding a peculiar book it seems. "Of course."  
  
"Thank you so much," Jongho says, handing his student card over.  
  
"Such a peculiar book, don't you think?" The librarian inquires, squinting at the book's title as she grabbed hold of his card and scanned it on the monitor. "Are you an Earth Science major?"  
  
Jongho shakes his head. "I'm actually an Environmental Science major, Earth Sciences is a minor strand in that course. I just happened to be interested in finding out about the world's end."  


"Right. Everyone must be intrigued too," the librarian shuffles over the desk and hands Jongho back his card after marking his new borrowing inventory. "Us humans are unique, but that alone is not enough for these secrets to be unveiled to the world, so we might not know when the end is fast approaching. Ah, my daughter hasn't come back from her travels, I wonder how is she doing..."  
  
Jongho manages to catch her last words but chooses to pretend he didn't. "Pardon?"  
  
For a moment there, Jongho saw the fear-stricken expression that drew over her face. The librarian swats her hand and gave him a toothy grin, "it's nothing. You should head home. It's already nine in the evening, dangerous people are awake around these times."  
  
"Thank you. I will go and have dinner first."  
  
"Be careful on your way."  
  
Jongho trots past the dorm building and heads straight to the main gates of the campus, telling the security guard he'll be back soon despite curfew drawing near. Not even halfway yet to the convenience store and Jongho halts in his tracks in the middle of the poorly lit streets upon hearing a melody.  
  
A melody he's not supposed to be hearing.  
  
The melody comes with footsteps, a scream, and a muffled conversation. Jongho clutches his head, an attempt to block out the eerie sounds. As they got closer and closer, Jongho gradually turns around to find out what is happening. His heart sank to what he had to witness.  
  
There, about five feet away from him, is a drunkard feeding on a woman's shoulder. The woman screeches and tries to escape, but the man's hold on her is too strong. Only then when Jongho got a clearer view of them did he recognize it's a cannibal ripping off flesh from its prey.  
  
Holding back the feeling of wanting to vomit, Jongho sprints away in fear, sweat trickling down his face. He runs and runs away from the cannibal he'd just seen, not even caring anymore if he wasn't going towards the direction of the convenience store. He goes through random routes and passed through dark alleys, that is, till he bumped into someone.  
  
His heart hammered against his ribcage in both distress and agitation. Head held down, he gets the jitters, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry, please don't hurt me!"  
  
"... Jongho?"  
  
Jongho's ears perked up at the mention of his name, tilting his chin up to see the person he'd just bump into. "Y-You are one of them!"  
  
"Them? Oh, you mean the warehouse family. Well, I suppose you don't know my name yet?"  
  
"But I know your face."  
  
"Of course you do, you saw me that day you signed in as a customer. I'm Kang Yeosang, a watchguard for tonight." Yeosang introduces as he gestures for Jongho to follow him. They end up staying by the stairs in front of a closed mall and sat down on the steps.  
  
"What do you mean by watchguard?"  
  
"People are reckless nowadays. I'm just making sure none of them attacks the innocent."  
  
"You're making _sure_ ?" Jongho drawls. "Do you even know why was I running? There's a cannibal on the loose!"  
  
Yeosang seemed nonchalant. "Is that so? Too bad, I didn't see."  
  
"Why do you sound so carefree?"  
  
"These events are bound by fate. We can't do anything to prevent what we have not witnessed," Yeosang sighs. "And your bag is unzipped."  
  
Before Jongho could even zip his bag closed, Yeosang had grasped hold of an item from inside. He grabs it and to Jongho's surprise, he had taken out the book he'd just borrowed from the library. Printed on the cover is a bolded calligraphy of 'World's End', with the author's name followed by.  
  
"Don't get the wrong idea," Jongho lies. "I'm just fascinated, you know."  
  
"Isn't San such a blabbermouth?" Jongho felt the sting from Yeosang's tongue as if he'd make every word sharp. "He told you about the apocalypse, didn't he?"  
  
Jongho didn't hesitate to nod. "Oh, maybe you can explain it to me? I still don't quite understand."  
  
"Alright, sit tight. Do you know the secret behind Bermuda's triangle? Do you know where Cleopatra's tomb is? Who Jack the Ripper is? If the City of Atlantis really existed?" Yeosang takes an exhalation in. "The Taos Hum. The SS Ourang Medan. The Mackenzie Poltergeist. The Nazca Geoglyphs. You've heard of them, haven't you?"  
  
Jongho bobs his head.  
  
"There are too many mysteries in this world that are left unsolved, and it's best to leave them like that. The biggest mystery right now is why is the world about to reach its end. Even if people could solve that case, it'll be too late. Someday, we'll stop breathing. Die. Rot. Until the world is just a dumpster for corpses. Even microorganisms that feed on our dead bodies will be wiped out, so everyone is uncertain what could happen. It's uncanny. By the end of the day, humanity will lost hope with their lives."  
  
Jongho couldn’t utter a single word. His mouth remains hanging wide open.  
  
"Norwegian Rocket Incident, Mount Tambora eruption, the Rise of CFCs, 2012 Coronal Mass Ejection and Cuban Missile Crisis. Let's not leave out the Bubonic plague, Asteroid 2018 GE3 and the eruption of Thera." Yeosang enumerates. "There are too many times the world could've ended ages ago, but out of all times it only had to be now. Who knows, we could've wiped ourselves sooner than the expected date."  
  
"Is there any scientific explanation for this?"  
  
"Aren't you an Environmental Science major?"  
  
"But we never discuss such things like that."  
  
"Right, humans are too afraid to discuss things like that," Yeosang shrugs his shoulders. "You'd know if you tune in the news."  
  
"I never switch on my radio or television," Jongho sadly grins. "I do it to save electricity."  
  
"I see you're doing a lot for your financial stability and the earth."  
  
"Well then, I should go back to the dorm." Jongho says, snatching the thick book from Yeosang before shoving it back inside his bag.  
  
"Have you had dinner?"  
  
Jongho shook his head. "No, but it's fine. As a wise legend once said: 'don't eat when I'm working, digestion slows me down.'”  
  
"Technically everyone suspected Sherlock Holmes has an eating disorder. Anyhow, you need to eat," Yeosang demands. He reaches for Jongho's wrist and pulls him in. "Open up your hands."  
  
Jongho does as told. "Like this?"  
  
Yeosang doesn't answer and instead placed some chocolate bars on the younger's palm. Jongho looks at him in surprise.  
  
"Be careful on the way home. Just run away if you see a cannibal."  
  
And sometimes Jongho wonders. Why is everyone so calm when they mention such a word? He kicks a rock in frustration, having a heart attack when it almost got tossed to a parked car's windshield.  
  
To him, the word cannibal doesn't look so good coming out of Yeosang's mouth.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongho scuttles inside the warehouse, waiting for the carpenters to greet him like an old friend. With a smile plastered on his face, he encounters the dark aura from inside the warehouse, looking around to see if anyone is present.  
  
There was no one.  
  
"Hello?" He calls out, his voice echoing throughout the hollow walls. "Is anybody here? Hongjoong hyung? San? Yeosang?"  
  
Jongho expected he wouldn’t get a response, but he did hear some faint shufflings from the second floor. He catches a glimpse of a door that had just closed on the second floor the moment he whips his head upwards to see. Curiosity eating him, he dashes to the stairs to go up. He pants, peering over to the closed door with hesitant steps. He slowly makes his way towards the black polished door, debating with himself whether to knock or open it right away.  
  
Jongho decides to choose the latter option and was astonished to see it was not latched. Swinging the door open, he peeps in first to check if anyone would be present inside. Much to his disappointment, he only sees darkness, yet he feels like someone is blending in.  
  
A hum. He hears a mother's hum. The voice was indeed coming from inside, and it happens to be coming from a male based on the manly tone. Jongho would very much love to satisfy his curiosity and not leave himself bewildered for days about whoever was humming. The fact that Jongho recognizes the melody to be a mother's lullaby sends chills down his spine.  
  
Jongho pushes the door wide open enough for him to get a view of the room. The darkness is still shrouding his vision. Jongho gets fed up and decides to switch on the light.  
  
His heart sank to his feet as if he'd forgotten how to breathe. Jongho elicits a choked gasp at the maniacal sight before him.  
  
"Have you been well, Jongho?"  
  
Jongho struggles to find a word, and maybe he'd forgotten how to speak too. He just frantically nods, not a single syllable rolling off his tongue.  
  
There at the center of the abandoned room was Seonghwa, seated elegantly on a chair with his legs crossed. Situated beside him is a coffee table with a lamp on top of it along with a vase filled with an array of pastel-colored flowers. There is a bloodied dagger placed on the coffee table too, contrasting to the clean walls and neat tiles. Nonetheless, what strikes Jongho in the mind is the head Seonghwa had on his arms as if the blonde man is babying it. He recognizes the faded green hair the slit head has, and Jongho wishes he can puke right now.  
  
"Doesn't Mingi look so pretty?" Seonghwa rakes his fingers through Mingi's hair, adoration visible in his starry eyes. Jongho shifts his gaze to Mingi's scarred cheek and was bemused when a star carved brutally on his skin caught his eye. One huge star covers the area on Mingi's left cheek where one would find some of his freckles, and Jongho feels as if his feet are glued to the ground.  
  
"As a child, he always wished to get stars from his father for being a good boy, but going through all the hard times and getting abused... Mingi has gone through so much, you know. But he's one of us now, he's here safe and sound. I gave him one big star that he deserves, for being such an amazing person to be ever brought to this planet." Seonghwa's expression solemned, his gaze still fixated on Mingi's head as he patted it. "He's so pretty, more than ever, don't you agree?"  
  
Jongho can't even nod. He'd turn mute from just having a bloody sight burned behind his eyelids and now he regrets chasing after the closed door and switching on the lights.  
  
"Customer," Seonghwa calls out, and Jongho turns his head sideways to avoid staring. "Customer, look at me. Show me your bravery and pride."  
  
And upon eye contact, Jongho somehow felt as if he'd drown on those red pupils. They were seductive, tantalizing but in vain, and Jongho swears he won't fall for them.  
  
" _Welcome home, Jongho_."  
  
Jongho wakes up in a cold sweat, irregularly breathing as he kicked his blanket out of bed. He stares at the ceiling for quite a long time, contemplating whether to keep his supranormal nightmare a secret or tell somebody he could trust it with. Heck, he couldn't even trust himself.  
  
"Argh!" Jongho yells at himself, storming off to the bathroom in distress. It's not like there is someone who he could trust his life with. "What the hell was he talking about? I don't have a home–"  
  
Jongho pauses upon hearing a knock on his door. His heart leaps from sudden fright as he steps out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in hand. Peering over to his door from the bathroom door frame, he sees a tiny envelope slid from beneath his door. It had a sticker of pink heart in the middle.  
  
"Who on earth, who would be awake at this hour?" Jongho goes over to pick up the envelope from the floor, glancing at his alarm clock situated on top of his night desk. "Three in the damn morning? Really?" 


	2. Faint Hums of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confession, a rejection, and an attempted murder. How lovely.

Broad daylight and let's say Jongho didn't mind much about his surroundings, too deep in his thoughts. That being said, he stays seated on his desk with his gaze fixated on the classroom's wall. He didn't even notice someone approach him, even with the obnoxious tapping sounds of her heels.  
  
With the snap of one's fingers right in front of him, Jongho stopped spacing out and shook his head. He was at least relieved it wasn't a professor who'd come up to him, but a junior who hails from the law department. He tilts his head up and locked eyes with the woman.  
  
Jongho flashes her his best smile, though so fake the girl squinted at him. "May I help you with something?"  
  
"Uh," she staggers, giving him a sheepish smile. Her cheeks turned pink, "c-can we go on a... Date?"  
  
The whole classroom turned to them, curious eyes falling most especially to Jongho. Jongho shifts his gaze around to meet the sudden stares directed at him before he turned back to look at the girl standing in front of him and lets out a stifled laugh.  
  
"Ah, I'm sorry," Jongho stands up, his stool making a rustling sound against the floor. Still smiling, he gently grabs a hold of her hands and shook it out of friendliness. "I'm sorry, I'm not really seeking a lifetime partner right now. I hope you understand."  
  
Jongho doesn't mind if the girl gave her a mean glance, after all, he'd rather have her get out of his sight. He'd deal with confessions from ladies several times in a year, so this case wasn't much of a shock.  
  
He receives a scan from her from head to toe, seeming so rude and disrespectful Jongho had to resist himself from throwing a square punch at her face. Of course he won't do that, he's a gentleman and has an image to display to the general public. The girl rips away her pitiful stare at Jongho and rotates her heel the other way as she turns around and flips her hair. She marches out of the classroom in frustration, scratching her head too harshly. Jongho ought to call her Ms. Rejected from now on.  
  
Stares bided on Jongho even when the girl has left. Jongho creases his eyebrow at his classmates. "Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"My my, he's going to be in so much trouble." Someone sitting on the windowsill gossips.  
  
"I know right. He shouldn't have rejected her offer. My bad."  
  
Jongho turns his head to see more of the eyes fell on him in judgment and pity. He shrugs it off, sighing, and slumps back to his stool. Before he could even start to wonder why everyone is suddenly worried about him, the professor made his entrance and greets the class with formality.  
  
Everyone shuffles to their seats and was now about to exercise their right to remain silent once again (it's customary for students, Jongho can confirm). The lecture began in a blink of an eye, but Jongho wished it could end the same way too. Unfortunately it didn't, so he had to peer over the window and rest his arm on the sill as his habit. Lectures are boring, everyone could agree. Jongho is starting to regret taking Environmental Sciences as his course but then again, he had to please his family and present them his diploma months from now. Jongho had no particular interests anyway, so as a matter of fact, university is not for him.  
  
Discussing radioactive dating (or radioactive fallout whatsoever, Jongho can't even decipher anymore what the professor is talking about now that he'd turn on and pull out his selective hearing excuse) makes him so bored to death. If push comes to shove, what's the point of continuing your education when the end of the earth is fast approaching? Jongho heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes, leaning to the glass pane of the window. He attempts to sleep but stopped when he smelled something sketchy.  
  
Something is off. Strange. He's not supposed to be hearing any munching or chewing sounds in the middle of class hours. He turns to his professor, about to report that someone is eating in class as a diligent student, then it hit him.  
  
The professor has his back to the class, scratching chalk against the board quite harshly that it produced annoying, squeaky sounds. With him scribbling words Jongho would never take note of, the said student narrowed his eyes at the professor and took a look at his hands. Both hands are covered in chalk powder, the other hand busy in writing while the other one was placed on his hips.  
  
 _No_ , Jongho slaps himself. _There's really something off._  
  
He blinks to make sure he's not dreaming and looks over to the professor's head. The moment the professor turned around to face the class, a tap of his buckled shoe waking up some of the ones sleeping in class, Jongho nearly has a breakdown.  
  
The professor was eating chalk. No doubt.  
  
  
  
  
  
School is over again and by the time the clock ticks six in the evening, Jongho arrives back to the dorms after his last lecture for the day. He steps in his small room and suddenly became tense as if all the weight of the planet had been laid on his shoulders. He exhales.  
  
"I should be careful," Jongho almost slips on his carpet with a stack of binders on hand. "God, I should really be careful."  
  
Jongho pauses, halting in his steps. He carefully places the binders on his study desk and stares off at his wall. From his peripheral vision, he can discern something that shouldn't be there. At all.  
  
Feeling a bit creeped out, Jongho turns to the door and sees a hammer placed beside it. Jongho frowns in disgust and runs to the kitchenette to shrug off his thoughts and get a glass of water. What he saw there though was enough to give him shivers through his spine.  
  
All the dishes in the sink have been rinsed and placed neatly in the small cabin which Jongho would never even do within a week. He scampers to his bedroom and perceives his blankets which were folded with his pillows set down by the headboard to aim for an appealing visual. Jongho covers his mouth in bewilderment, seeing even his laundry for the day had been done too, his university uniform all placed inside a laundry basket, pleated and smelling fragrant. And not to forget Jongho could feel someone's presence inside his dorm room at the moment.  
  
Jongho dashes out of his room without turning back.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongho heads off to his route leading to the convenience store to get himself a special treatment and afford a chamomile tea. It's past six, the skies are getting darker and Jongho knows; the underworld of the city is yet about to come out from their shells again.  
  
He's afraid to encounter another drunk cannibal, so he decides to take a shortcut and comes through a narrow alley. There he sees a hooded person squatted down, feeding a stray kitten. Jongho approached and recognizes him as Mingi.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Mingi looks up to him, checking him out. "Oh hey, customer."  
  
Jongho can't find a word to blurt out. He brings up a sudden topic anyhow, the common words rolling off his tongue. "What's all the apocalypse about?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What do you mean–" Jongho runs fingers through his hair. "Mingi, I ought to know."  
  
"Then find it out," Mingi hasn't spared Jongho a glance, his focus fixated on the stray cat. "How'd you figure out my name by the way? I don't remember introducing myself to you at that time when you first showed up to us a customer."  
  
"I actually saw you in my dream. And... Your name was never mentioned, I just happened to figure it out."  
  
Mingi hums. "Cool. Was I a hero in your dream?"  
  
"Even if you were the hero I strongly believe you would've caused destruction and huge property law of a capital trying to save a damn stray cat," Jongho crosses his arms. "And I won't ever tell you about my dream. Rather, it was a nightmare anyway."  
  
"Noted," Mingi complies, patting the kitten on its tiny head. "Why did you come here?"  
  
"I asked first!" Jongho exclaims. "What on earth is this damn apocalypse?"  
  
"You want to know?" Mingi taunts. "You really want to know?"  
  
Jongho nods, gulping a lump stuck in his throat.  
  
"You really want to know huh?"  
  
Mingi guffaws.  
  
"Then find out."  
  
As somebody who once took martial arts lessons, Jongho pulls Mingi by the sleeve from behind and flips him upside down with his whole body strength, absolutely feeling insulted. Jongho looks at the miserable man grunting on the ground, grasping onto his injured leg.  
  
"Darn it, you really had to pull that judo trick in front of my cat," Mingi mewls, grousing at the pain as he tries to get up from the ground. "You're not that bad, customer."  
  
"My name is Choi Jongho in case you're curious."  
  
"Aren't you the curious one?" Mingi taunts once again, still feeding the stray kitten. "Hmm? This apocalypse? I don't know, you don't know, everyone doesn't know. As far as I know, the ozone layer is vanishing, the sun keeps getting hotter and hotter, crops are dying and some extinct animals are perishing. Soil is beginning to cease in absorbing water, we can no longer plant trees and lack of oxygen is now a large contributor to morbidity and mortality."  
  
"Funny. I'm an ES major and I've never heard of that."  
  
Mingi scrunches his nose. "Good grief, I spotted an ES major contributing to air pollution by simply breathing and he's standing right in front of me. I'd like to have him charged with expenses."  
  
"Why are you so rude to your customer?" Jongho sarcastically chuckles. "You know what, if you were actually holding your phone and talking to anybody I would've broken your bones right now."  
  
"Fine." Mingi gives in. "Listen here kid, I have no idea as to why this apocalypse is happening but one thing for sure, scientists aren't joking around. Theories about the end of the world are scientifically developed but solutions aren't. It's unstoppable. In simple terms, I'm going to die soon, so are you and everyone else. We'll wipe ourselves out someday. To be honest I think God has lost hope in humanity, or perhaps Wooyoung's beliefs are just contagious. A new Christian era? The Messiah's return? We have heard him prattle about those for hours straight."  
  
"That grey-haired man is a Christian?" Jongho inquires, tapping his chin in scrutiny. "He didn't seem like the type."  
  
"The search for the immune is still ongoing." Mingi continues, neglecting Jongho's statement. "Blood of that one immune among millions of people in each country on this planet will be sold by scientists to those who want to survive the apocalypse. However, it comes with a price. 3000 won here in Korea, I think."  
  
"That's expensive," Jongho comments. He pats himself on the shoulder, quite relieved when he realizes he's not affected by the apocalypse at all.  
  
"So? What did you come all the way here for?"  
  
"Well," Jongho scratches his nape. "There's something peculiar going on inside my dorm room and I'm honestly spooked out."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I... I left the dorms quickly because I had to catch up to my first lecture. I was running late, I had no time to fix my bed and arrange my blankets. Likewise, I'm a busy student so I have no time to do the dishes. I can't afford a dishwasher, and my dishes had been sitting on the sink for a week now. And..." Jongho trails off. "When I came back, there was a hammer is placed beside my door, the dishes are rinsed and my bed is done clean. There's no way the dorm is enchanted."  
  
Mingi raises an eyebrow at him. "Do you have any admirers?"  
  
"Yeah," Jongho cringes. "I don't like any of them. I feel locked in a box whenever I'm in a relationship so I think I'm asexual. I rejected one today though, I felt superior. Just saying."  
  
Mingi freezes. "... Lock your doors and windows."  
  
"Okay? But why?"  
  
"You probably have a sasaeng. Some people try to live off by showing their love to someone they like, but most of the time it goes too far."  
  
  
  
  
  
The first thing Jongho does after swinging his door open is turn on the lights and see if there’s anything suspicious in the room. Nothing had changed from when he ran away in fear and met Mingi, but one thing for sure: Jongho burned the love letter that morning, absolutely having no intention of reading a cringy confession from a girl crushing on him. So why is it sitting on his chabudai dining table, blending in with the mess of colorful highlighters and unfinished essays Jongho had created himself?  
  
He chooses to neglect the letter. Jongho walks in with hesitant steps, very wary of his surroundings. He can feel that someone is here, the sasaeng must be here somewhere hiding. He keeps shifting his looks around the small room, afraid someone might come for him from behind. To ensure no one is with him inside his dorm room, he checks every place someone could hide inside, from the plain cabinets under his kitchenette, his narrow bathroom, on the balcony to finally his wardrobe. No one is there. A huge wave of relief washes over him.  
  
He dives onto his bed. Jongho indulges himself beneath the bedsheets and proceeds to sleep. However, seven minutes into lying on his bed and he hasn't fallen in slumber yet. Something makes him uneasy, he reminds himself. _I checked everything, I couldn't have left something empty._  
  
It took some time for Jongho to stop rolling around on his bed and hopped on it instead in surprise. It hit him. There is something else he hasn't checked yet.  
  
Under his bed.  
  
Jongho's heart hammers against his ribcage. Stiff as hell, he cautiously stepped on the floor, bent down and peeked under.  
  
A toothy grin and bulging eyes greeted him.  
  
Jongho hurls backward in shock as the figure crawls out from under and jumps on him with open arms. "Jongho honey! You're home!"  
  
"Who the fuck are you to call me honey?!" Jongho dodges from the jump, watching as the figure collapsed on the floor with its scrawny legs. Only when the figure stood up on its feet did Jongho recognize the face. It was the same girl from earlier, the one who'd confess to him that morning. Ms. Rejected, he'd name.  
  
"Darling, we barely had time together," she weeps, hastily wiping her blotched face with calloused hands. "We need to marry before the world ends. What do you say, darling?"  
  
Jongho deeply sighs. "You see, I have no intention of hurting a woman neither do I know you or your name, but it would mean very much for me if you leave my room right now. You don't want to get caught by the RAs before your life ends, right?"  
  
"What do you mean," she begins to maniacally laugh. "Darling? I thought I live here with you?"  
  
"Ugh," Jongho grunts. "Fuck it, I have no choice."  
  
He starts to walk forward. Each step he took, the bigger Ms. Rejected gets flustered and drained in her fantasies, expecting a hug from Jongho.  
  
Jongho pats her head, sporting a manly smile. With twinkling eyes, the girl looks up to Jongho, drained in her emotions.  
  
"I'm sorry, I came home too late." Jongho holds her close endearingly, dragging out the girl's reality and to emphasize her fantasy. As much as he doesn't want to do it, he knee-kicks her in the face. "Well suckers, I should've come home early to get rid of you under my roof!"  
  
She stumbles to the floor, blood dripping down from her nose. Jongho looks at her with a pitiful look yet has a dark, cold orbs. "Sorry, my anger got the best of me."  
  
"DAMN YOU! WHAT THE HELL DID I EVER DO?!"  
  
The girl darts at him with a ferocious glare. She throws a jab punch at him but Jongho dodges yet again. Jongho heaves in the midst of fighting, "in case you don't know, trespassing a property you have no means of entering is against the law."  
  
"SO WHAT ABOUT THE LAW?!"  
  
Jongho gulps. He knew he provoked the girl. Someone from the law department badmouthing the law themselves isn’t something too good to hear, and anyone would think it would be best for them to go consult a psychiatrist.  
  
The girl attempts to put him in a chokehold, but Jongho was one beat earlier. He took a hold of the hammer from beside his door, thanks to the girl herself who'd place it there. Jongho hit her on the head, causing the girl to scream in agony.  
  
She sprints towards the open balcony. Jongho shouts at her to halt, but instead, she jumps out of the balcony without hesitation. Jongho pursues his lips into a thin line, before walking towards the balcony to peer over and see what had happened to the female.  
  
Jongho's blood ran cold. A red humanoid splotch covered an area on the ground in front of the dorm building, just three floors below Jongho's balcony.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongho can't sleep. At all.

  
It had been hours ago since policemen and lawyers came to clear the case that occurred under his roof. He was almost charged and accused of murder by policemen, till lawyers and investigators cleared out the evidence that Jongho had no intentions of murder. They figured out the girl flee and hopped off the balcony on her own, based on the footprints scanned on the floor and their timing of leaving a mark. Jongho kept a good impression and composure during the interrogation, so he wasn't too suspicious.

  
It's three in the morning, and the incident from his sasaeng is something he can't get out of his mind. He has to attend lectures and laboratory meetings to talk about voluntary works, all in a few hours. As if he's going to eat breakfast, Jongho can be diagnosed with ulcers for all he cares.

  
He remembers what Yeosang told him a day ago. He should check social media, for once, as he checks it he'll know everything. Rubbing his heavy eyes that had been staring up to the ceiling for hours, Jongho sits up on his bed and settled aside his pillows. He went to grab his laptop, switched it open and used his balance load to pull up to Naver.

  
He hesitantly types of the thing stuck on his mind for days, End of the World. To his surprise, several articles were recommended and he clicks on the top and daily visited article.

  
The dimensions of his screen weren't enough to fill up the whole article. In fact it's long, the paragraphs are very detailed and Jongho can't help but get himself immersed.

 

**The World's End Approaches  
** __**A Thrilling Apocalypse  
  
**

_**  
** _ _ The generation we're living off at the moment has been placed into a quite tragic season. Mothers who bore children at a deadly serious time like this are so wrong and foolish, but with all due respect, we'd rather like them to spend the last minutes with their family they couldn't have in their past. _

_  
__If you see someone you know lurking around the deep web or even the dark web, or someone consuming drugs, it's completely normal. Don't freak out, don't panic, just watch out for people who have the motive to take your life. Be cautious and wary of your surroundings! Crimes these days are highly rated, now that murderers and rapists have stopped hiding inside their refuge because the Earth is about to die, and they want to slaughter some people for fun before their lives entirely get wipe out.  
  
_ _Life is short. People are trying to live to their best before they die, mayhaps that includes you. Toxicity is everywhere, mean and disrespectful people live their lasts by harming another. Yes, you get it right, suicide triggers are another highlight. Be careful of people who constantly want to trigger you into killing yourself bits by bits.  
  
_ _Blunts, condoms, drugs. The underworld is very much awake around the same time as ordinary people in towns. The upcoming apocalypse must've made them want to live to their best too. Then again, the same goes for all of us. You, good or not, deserve to live and achieve your life-long goals.  
  
_ _So while you're still here, jot down a bucket list and go on a journey to tick off those items on your list. We don't know when will the world ends, the scientists haven't calculated everything yet. Visit your family, try the snacks you haven't eaten in your whole life, fly overseas to another country, attend a concert or try new sports to let yourself be fit and healthy. So many things to try, yet life is too short!  
  
A_ __s par scientific research, 195 countries all around the world have one, single immune among them. Multiple searches and hunts are being held to capture the immune, whose blood will be distributed to those who want to continue on living but with an expensive cost. As for this country we reside on, we pray that the immune shows up and hears the desperate cries of humanity in South Korea.  
  
He pauses. The article was too simple to understand as if everything had been written in layman's terms, nothing else should be a cause to confuse Jongho. But he is. He is confused, puzzled, yet for no absolute reason. He gets the hang of it, yet baffled with something he can't figure out.  
  
Sighing, he flops down to bed after putting away his laptop. He spends another few hours staring off into space. It's not like Jongho has insomnia, he's the type to always sleep in an instant unless he worries about something and can't get it out of his mind. The same thing is happening right now, and he can't help but be bothered with how he's living off a Dystopian era, yet he appears to be not too affected.  
  
That's what he thinks until the second he closes his eyes shut and drifted off to slumber.


	3. In the Name of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disciple of God has been uncleansed with evil. Jongho and Wooyoung stays put through it.

Jongho wasn't surprised to find condoms and wrappers of drugs on the first floor's trash can. Grunting, he made his way past the music rooms to head off to the cafeteria, till he heard a vibrating clang from the music room second from his left. He bolted towards the room and pulled open the door. His heart skipped a beat at the sight.

There lies his young junior from the music department, whose identity he'd identify during a nationwide project preparation gathering a few months ago. He crouches down next to her and straddles her numb face.

"Wonyoung," he gently slaps her, an attempt to wake her up. "Jang Wonyoung, stop fooling around."

Except she wasn't fooling around. She lied there unconscious, blood trickling down from her forehead. A torn piece of guitar string wrapped around her neck as if she'd been strangled on purpose. Jongho frantically looks around to check the murder weapon and turns out the poor woman had been hit with a violin stick on the forehead as the instrument had smudges of blood on them. Even the window was smashed open, the shards of glass scattered on the ground. Jongho carefully removes the guitar string from her neck without hurting her, before lifting her up in bridal style and sauntered to the clinic. People in the hallways started gossiping about Jongho's heartful deed, but as if he minded them and their business; he's a gentleman after all.

He kicks the clinic door open, as the nurse hurried to aid his need. Seeing the passed out girl in his arms, she made haste towards the emergency bed and pushed it towards Jongho, helping him in laying her down on the bed.

Jongho was told to take a seat on the vacant couch as the nurse began to treat Wonyoung's forehead and check up on the red marks imprinted on her pale neck.

"She's not dead, is she?"

"No, just knocked out," the nurse replied, pouring a small amount of alcohol on cotton. "Geez, people are reckless nowadays, aren't day?"

"A friend told me the exact same thing," Jongho said. "God, I hate people. Their toxicity is showing even when the Earth is about to die–"

"Hush, we shouldn’t talk about that right now." The nurse intervenes, holding her index finger up to her mouth. "Don't mention too much about it. May we live a post-apocalyptic era at the moment, don't overthink it. The more you think about it, the more chances it'll happen."

"Damn," Jongho mutters under his breath. "Okay okay, you're right."

"File a report regarding this abusive bullying case and tell the principal. The students need to know there's a potential murderer on the loose around this area. Be sure to notify the bureaus relating to crimes about this too through the vice chairman, okay?"

"Okay," Jongho huffs. "I will."

"Soon, they could catch the murderer." The nurse implies. "God, no one deserves to die at such a season like this."

And at that moment, Jongho knew. They really are living a post-apocalyptic era, a life that can fall into the verge of death's seizing grips. Jongho slumps his shoulders down in distress, turning back to the door to exit out and do as told.

The nurse sniggered at him, before opening a closet that revealed a knife so smooth and sharp. 

 

 

 

 

 

A day not so full of wonders and Jongho meanders towards the warehouse he'd visited a few days ago. He's starting to be chill with the guys from there, of course when he had met Yeosang, San, and Mingi and had short one-on-one conversations with them. At least each day.

Jongho did notify the principal about Jang Wonyoung's case, and the school chairmen are sending out the law and police commissioners just because Wonyoung's father is a music professor, and dare he be disappointed then everyone is sentenced to death. Jongho thinks it's cool.

Lucky as he considers it, Jongho didn't feel uneasy trying to knock twice on the rusty door of the warehouse. It opens in a blink of an eye, and a worn out Seonghwa greets him.

He didn't look alright. His hair was disheveled, he looked weak, but a smile that seemed fake adorned his flawless skin. Jongho returned the small act of kindness and slightly bowed, stepping foot onto the warehouse. The first thing he smells is the malignant odor from inside. Seonghwa closed the door.

"Excuse the odor. Mingi and San had a brawl today."

Jongho does suppose they did. Some spots on the floor in the middle of the warehouse were bloodstained. A chisel and a hand saw laid abandoned on the floor as if they've been used, but one thing for certain is the saw was a bit blunted. As much as Jongho doesn't want to sound intrusive, he asks Seonghwa about it.

"What was the fight about?"

"I don't know. San just exploded and the next thing we know, Mingi is in comatose."

"Woah shit," Jongho gasps. "Are they both alright?"

Seonghwa shook his head. "They barely are. Mingi's bedridden and San can't walk. Anyway, let me offer you a tea. You must be tired."

Jongho frenziedly flails his arms. "N-No! You don't need to! You look like you're going to break your arm in any minute–"

"Customer." Seonghwa deadpans. "Lemon Balm tea?"

On the spur of the moment, Jongho was seated on a stool in front of a dining table. The dining room was narrow, dim, and he feels like he was brought back to his countryside home, his provincial house far away from the hustle of the city. Only when he perceives Seonghwa sitting across him did he realize he's still inside the warehouse he once called shady.

Two cups of Lemon Balm tea were settled on top of the dining table, each for the two of them. Seonghwa looks at Jongho in the eye, making the younger a bit uncomfortable that he squirms in his seat and sips a bit of the hot tea.

"Bad day?" Seonghwa asks in a gentle tone like a mother would. Jongho shakes his head.

"I mean, not really after I discovered my junior was attacked in the music room by someone."

Seonghwa didn't react. "There's not a day wherein a crime is not done."

Jongho gulps. "Uh, you have a point."

"Who attacked the victim?"

"I don't know, the investigation is still ongoing."

"Ah," Seonghwa inhales. "I didn't know there were people still relying on the law to solve their criminal cases."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard, did you? The law had given up investigating cases because an apocalypse is fast approaching unless it's an urgent request or can benefit the justice and the rights of the country."

"Woah, uh, that sounds... Mind-boggling."

Seonghwa takes a sip of his tea. "So how'd the victim earn the law's trust?"

"Her father is a music professor as if he's given the privilege." Jongho remarks. "I can't believe there's a killer lurking around our area."

"Who knows, they're not alone. We're all pretty safe in this warehouse, why not go live with us?"

Jongho felt paralyzed. He thought of the things related to the warehouse, and the possibilities of events happening to him if he gets too close to the warehouse family. Mingi and San beat the fuck out of each other, Yeosang is creepily nonchalant about sensitive things, Wooyoung is a heavily religious person according to what he heard, and most importantly, his dream of Seonghwa straddling Mingi's head. For Pete's sake, how do they live together and consider themselves a family? Jongho has no motive of knowing so.

"Oh," Seonghwa twitches his lips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's okay." Jongho swats his hands in denial. "I'm alright, I swear."

"You don't look like–"

As if on cue, Yunho walks in and interrupts the conversation with a mirthful 'hello guys'. When his eyes landed on Jongho, he grinned from ear to ear. "Oh, customer? Are you here for your order?"

"No. With all due honesty, I don't even know why I came all the way here."

"Best you came here at this hour," Seonghwa glimmered. "Yeosang's on watchguard again for tonight. Don't worry about walking home unsafe."

"Thanks," Jongho smiles. "The uni dorm may be far, and I do hope I'll make it alive."

In the midst of their conversation, Yunho marches towards the dim corner of the room unnoticed. He opens the refrigerator and gets out quite a dubious looking bottle of alcohol, and with the aid of the light coming from inside the appliance, Jongho glances at its sticker and recognizes it to be a bottle of Everclear.

Even in the dark, Jongho watches as Yunho settled down the bottle and a shot glass on the kitchen counter. Only the sound of the alcoholic drink being poured on the glass was all he can hear, as Seonghwa kept drinking his tea.

Jongho watches closely. Yunho poured, drank, and repeated. Thrice. Then he swallows a pill Jongho barely caught a glimpse of. May it be a Levofloxacin or Methyldopa, he'll never know.

Seonghwa gives Jongho an ominous look and gulps his tea, flinching at the heat. Perturbed, Jongho turns to Seonghwa. 

Jongho whispers, "is he okay–"

"So customer," Seonghwa interrupts, prompting Jongho to seal his lips. "I've always wondered. How can you live so peacefully in this kind of season?"

Jongho narrows his eyebrows. "What are you trying to imply?"

"Tell me to stop if it's too sensitive for you," Seonghwa intends. "Sex, cannibalism, drugs and alcohol intake. Mass media, online games, and propaganda. How come you're not affected?"

Jongho staggers, "Uh... I don't know?"

Seonghwa didn't react again. "As much as it sounds weird, I'm certain you're still exposed to crimes, disorders, and diseases."

"It's a bad thing, but I don't really care about dying." Jongho remarks.

Seonghwa reaches out for something in his trench coat's pocket and hands the item to Jongho. Jongho eagerly looks at the item, distinguishing it as a taser.

"Use it. Defend yourself from any criminals you come across. Police dogs are most likely to go after you. Avoid them as much as possible." Seonghwa reminds. "Immunes are not supposed to be kept locked in as a specimen. They are not pets. If everyone dies, then everyone dies. May an immune serve as a hope for their country, it's still the world's fate to get wiped out."

Jongho observes the taser, placing it in the pocket of his coat. "I don't see why would I need this, but thank you."

"I'm not supposed to say it but," Seonghwa sighs, leaning back to his seat. "I'm starting to think you're an immune."

A low tap of glass against tile was softly heard from the dim corner of the kitchen. Yunho was still there.

 

 

 

 

Four in the morning and Jongho gets a text from Wooyoung. Wooyoung asked if he could go to church with him, especially since it's Sunday. Jongho immediately obliged, considering he had nothing to do for the day anyway. By the time the sun was already up on the celestial blue sky, Jongho was already dressed and groomed from head to toe, heading out the dorms and proceeded to the streets where he and Wooyoung had planned to meet.

Jongho waited. Whistling, he leaned on the electricity post in boredom, just wanting Wooyoung to show up already. The streets were deserted, barely anyone would show up but Wooyoung, he wishes. That is until two echoed voices were heard. Jongho whips his head to the people, not surprised when two drunk grown-up men stood there. Their outfits looking edgy could tell they were delinquents, and upon noticing Jongho's presence, they stared at him for a good second. Their gaze, oh, their penetrating gaze; it surely creeped the shit out of Jongho.

They wore contacts, much to their sharp aura. Their sizes were twice Jongho's, but being a trained expert in martial arts, his fear left him for good. He faced the two men, prompting them to wobble in their sloppy walk to approach him. The other man laughed.

"Don't you think he smells good?"

Jongho creases an eyebrow at his ambiguous statement.

"I know right," the shorter man responded. "His flesh, yum. Can we try?"

"Sure. Hey you there," he points a finger at Jongho. "Mind if we feed on you?"

Jongho jolts at that. The taller man lurched towards him with a maniacal grin, ready to trap him against the wall. Jongho dodges and strode away from the man in the speed of lightning. Heaving, he analyzes the two of the unknown men.

"Woah there young guy, you're quite a fast one."

"Fast, as if," Jongho snarls. "What about you? Are you fast enough to think about your life?"

"Oh dear, are you planning to kill us?" The other man mocks, chuckling. "What do you have in mind?"

"Fucker." Said the one who attacked Jongho. "Just let us feed on you! WE'RE HUNGRY AS FUCK!"

Jongho flinches at the sudden rise of voice. He knew it was a threat, yet also no joke. And yet he answers back, calm and composed.

"Cannibals, right?" Jongho inquires in a soft tone. "What is so good about eating flesh with good smell?"

"Kid, are you clueless or just plain dumb?"

"Calm down dude," the other hushes at his partner, before turning back to Jongho. "Boy, you have a really good flesh. I can smell it. In this case, I think I could say…"

Jongho freezes. His heart rummaged in his chest, sweat trickling down his face.

"You're a different breed. Oh, an ideal prey."

Jongho couldn't move. The man had started to come closer to him, his eyes full of psychotic intentions fixated on Jongho's trembling figure. Each step he takes, the harder his heart thrummed.

"Are you from a different universe? Are you really from this world? Oh goodness, why aren't you running away?"

He stood in front of Jongho. An inch away. Jongho closes his eyes when the man gently pulls him closer, inhales a good amount of his scent, before digging into his flesh-covered collarbone.

Jongho hitches his breath when he felt nothing. Instead, he hears a gasp and rashy noises. Unblinking an eye open, the sight in front of him was odd. The man had been dropkicked on the face by someone. Jongho watches as the drunk man collapsed on the ground, his face bloodied with a mark on the cheek. Jongho turns to see who had done the deed and saved him, widening his eyes in shock when he found out. Wooyoung stood before him as if he is his savior.

It seemed unreal as if Wooyoung had stopped mid-air only to pull skilled, smooth combat. Wooyoung clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at the fallen man unconscious on the ground.

"Tch, to think such a prominent guy in Korea's media industry would become a reckless cannibal," Wooyoung rolls his eyes, kicking the man's body for it to roll over. "Hello there Jongho. Have you been waiting for long?"

"Not really," he admits. "Who is he?"

"Oh right, you probably never saw him. He's Lee Joonyoung, some well-known idol in this industry. Basically, he's a famous figure here in Korea. Makes sense, I heard from Yeosang that you never open your television."

"Oh," Jongho drawls, not really surprised at that. "I think we should get going–"

"Don't forget me," a voice calls out from behind. It was the second guy, making his presence known. Wooyoung frowns at the sight of him.

"How'd you escape? Your arrest warrant hasn't been dismissed yet."

"It's because my name means victory!" The man maniacally cackles, to which Jongho creases his eyebrows at. Wooyoung wasn't abashed to say the least.

"Victory, you say? Yeah. As if." Wooyoung spat. "Lee Seungri, or should I say Mr. Seunghyun, if your real name really means victory, then why don't you come at me even at your drunk state?"

"Of course I'd win, haha, what would you expect? For such a loser like you to win against me, when I was born with a crown on my head?"

Jongho sighs. "He's crazy. Wooyoung, I think we really should get going."

"Nuh uh," Wooyoung shakes his head. "No one's leaving this alley when someone's not brain dead. Wait for a little bit more, Jongho, then we'll repent to God."

Wooyoung approaches Seunghyun with gradual steps. His trick is working, seeing as Seungri is showing signs of agitation each step he took. The drunk man is slightly getting taunted too, and Wooyoung couldn't help but grin in satisfaction.

"Why are you moving not a muscle?" Wooyoung jeers. "Scared, Mr. Prostitute Seller?"

"Scared? I never heard that word directed to me."

"Probably because the people around you are a bunch of Gods Wannabe. You think you're high and mighty and all. You're not afraid of anything? Better be scared of me now, because I'm going to knock some sense in you if possible."

Seungri clenches his teeth. "There was an emphasis on your last two words."

"Of course there was," Wooyoung laughs. "Because otherwise, I would've knocked you into oblivion or worst, death!"

"Gosh," Jongho flinches. "Is that really a guy who worships God? What a psycho."

Wooyoung let silence loom over them for a while. He stood in front of Seunghyun's well-built proportion, only a scanty centimeter being the gap between the tip of his shoe and Seunghyun's. Silence, it was a very, eerie, fucking silence, and Seunghyun's mind seemed to have calmed down. He calmed down. The beat on his nervous system acting on his brain was not agitated, not upset either. His feeling was light, very shallow, and it's all thanks to Wooyoung's technique.

And as if on the worse luck, Wooyoung claps. Clapped all of a sudden in front of Seunghyun's face, causing his brain to be in a shock and speed up his heartbeat. Seunghyun seemed to have bit his tongue too, and most of all, he's stunned by a mere clap sound. His life flashed before his eyes, the sudden pain bubbling in his nerves as shivers ran throughout his whole body. Jongho is in awe.

"What the–" Seunghyun chokes out as he fell to the ground. The moment he kneeled did Wooyoung grab ahold of his head and knee-kicked him on the face, kicks his abdomen away and sent him rolling on the ground. Seunghyun falls into slumber with blood dripping down his nostrils, nose so poorly broken. Jongho claps in amazement.

"That was cool," Jongho acknowledges. "I didn't know you were capable of handling criminals."

"It's nothing," Wooyoung waves off. He unearths a small jar of pills from his pocket and pops them onto his palm. He smears quite a handful and stuffed Seunghyun's open mouth with them, grinning at his work. He goes over and does the same to Joonyoung. Jongho raises an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"What are those for?"

"For people's sake. You know, I have to do some small contribution to save humanity before it entirely gets wiped out someday."

It takes a whole second for Jongho to process the entirety of what the Church boy had said. "What exactly do you mean?"

"These top wanted criminals won't wake up for the next few weeks if they consume these drugs. Meaning, there's a high chance they would stay unconscious in this miserable state for quite a long time. Law and cops are no longer really helpful in serving justice at a post-apocalyptic era like this, so I just had to do what I had to do."

"Shit…" Jongho takes an exhalation in, eyes widened in admiration for Wooyoung. "That's… Brilliant."

"It is," Wooyoung winks, holding up a thumbs-up. "Let's go, Jongho. To the House of God."

"Yeah." Jongho repeats with a smile, "to the House of God.

It doesn't take them long to arrive at the basilican Church. On the way there, Wooyoung had asked if Jongho is a Christian like him, only to find out he is an atheist. Wooyoung finds nothing wrong with that though after all, Jongho agreed to come with him for company.

When they arrived, a mass is ongoing. They scurried inside from behind as to not disturb anyone from the priest's religious chants. Wooyoung headed to the stand of holy water and did the sign of the cross, facing the altar feet away from his spot. Jongho did the same, but let out a shriek when the holy water was red as if the clear crystal water it was once had been mixed with blood.

"What is this?!"

"Shh!" Wooyoung muzzles. No one turned to look at them for their noisy disturbance at least, for the mass is   serious as well as the priest holding the blessed, circular bread.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jongho asks in a low tone as they sat down on vacant seats.

"I don't know either, but the holy water seemed dirty."

"It  _ is _ dirty!"

"Calm down customer, calm down," Wooyoung says. It didn't take him long to keep his composure upon looking at what the priest was holding for the Eucharist. Choking back a gasp, Jongho followed his look.

"What  _ the hell _ is that?!" Jongho hisses. Who won't be surprised at a priest raising a pure white dove, a symbolism of the holy spirit, for the holy Eucharist instead of a circular bread? And rather than freeing it from the priest's own grips, the ordained ministry slaughters it with a cross and lets it bathe in its own flesh.

The priest tears its tiny head from the body, the loud crack echoing throughout the basilica. Jongho winces at the sensitive sound.

"That's damn horrible," Jongho staggers, whipping his head around to see the reactions of the devotees around them. They seemed unfazed, most still kneeling with their hands clasped together in praying position. Jongho cringes at the eldritch sight.

"You see, customer, I haven't gone to this church for like a month," Wooyoung rubs his head from the sudden disturbance. "I didn't know there were going to be huge changes in this parish."

Jongho analyzes as the mass goes on. Turns out he and Wooyoung caught up to the holy communion, as the people around them stood up to line up and receive God's meal one by one. However, Jongho wonders; is it still really God's meal?

"What," Jongho gapes at the sight of communion finally beginning. "Hey, Wooyoung, what do you think are they going to receive?"

"What do you mean? Of course it'll be the bread. C'mon, we have to line up too." Wooyoung scrambles to his feet, but Jongho pulls him back to his seat.

"No, we can't. We didn't arrive during the first reading of sacred scripture. Besides, look closely," Jongho ushers. "They're not eating… Bread at all."

Wooyoung takes a good look at the priest and deacon's hand. Instead of being clean and neat, oh, he wonders, why they are scarlet red while holding God's holy meal. Jongho glances at what they were handing out and feeding the people of God, the mass attendees, and everyone else present who had lined up to be blessed by God with the holy meal.

" _F_ _ uck _ ," Jongho curses, even though it's very unnatural for someone to curse under the roof of God's house. "They're eating not a single scrap of the white bread we know of. They're eating the insides of a dove. It's the practice of feeding on offal."

"Well shit, this parish has turned demonic," Wooyoung hitches his breath. "Leviticus 16:27, I think. Well, who knows, someone among there might get to feed on the bird's gonad and ack, that's so disgusting."

Jongho doesn't even have a second to spare and appreciate Wooyoung's nasty joke, worried to his core when he made an eye contact with one of the deacons distributing the organs of the pigeon. The deacon delightfully smiled, and when the line in front of him died down, he walked towards Jongho and Wooyoung with his hands spread open, bathed in blood and torn organs of a dove.

"Wooyoung," Jongho's blood ran cold. "I think we need to… Run."

"Hey, that's not going to do anything. We have to hear the mass till the end–" Wooyoung caught the deacon's attention, therefore also taking notice of his presence. "Oh. Oh  _ God _ ."

"Shut up, I don't even believe there is a god!" Jongho exclaims, as he unglued himself from his seat and pulled Wooyoung along with him, the older boy almost tripping on the kneeler. The deacon chased after them, hands still spread open to offer the organs, and that's where Jongho starts to speed up and push Wooyoung outside the church, the latter tumbling to the ground as Jongho used all his might to close the grand doors and make their escape.

The doors won't close. They have 0.1% chance of slowing down the deacon but have the chance to run away. Heart thumping, Jongho doesn't want to eat a bird's organ, nor does Wooyoung. They would never eat it. Never. Now that the deacon is fast approaching after them with a haywire smile, hands– his  _ fucking bloodied hands _ – still open in a proffering way, and Jongho wants to puke right there and now.

"Jongho!" Wooyoung yells at him, Jongho still pushing the doors. He froze when he realized the doors were nailed to the ground, and nothing can stop the deacon from running after them now. All they have to do is escape, run, away from the church, but why can't Jongho move his legs?

He's frozen, it seems. Wooyoung could only stand there in paralyzed shock. Jongho mentally shouts at himself,  _ think think think _ ! May he have the slightest idea on how to stop the deacon from chasing them, he and Wooyoung will get away safely. Yet, they have a very small chance of surviving. A foul odor meets Jongho's nostrils, causing his face to crinkle in distaste, but it wasn't the tainted blood or the harmed organs about to approach him. It was his own coat, and that's when he realized.

He was wearing the same coat from yesterday, the one he hadn't placed in the laundry for days. It was the same coat he wore when he went to the warehouse and met Seonghwa and Yunho. Speaking of Seonghwa…

Jongho smirked. The deacon walked towards him, still wearing that maniacal smile, hands so ready to feed Jongho. Jongho lets him do so, and Wooyoung could only watch from afar.

"J-Jongho!" Wooyoung stutters in utter panic, but Jongho reassures him with a hand held up as if to tell him to wait. Wooyoung sees it more as a 'don't worry. I'll be fine', and well, he trusts the customer, now standing in front of the sick-looking deacon.

"Body of Christ?"

Jongho takes a quick exhalation. "Amen."

Jongho opens his mouth for the deacon to feed him the organ (it looks like a trachea, and Jongho would regret big time if he ate that right now). The more the organ goes near Jongho's lips, the more tensed Wooyoung became.

One, Wooyoung was about to kick the deacon on his balls if he dares to still feed Jongho 'The Sacred Body of God'. Two seconds, Jongho doesn't move from his spot and kept his expression, that mere expression of willfully accepting the inedible food. It makes Wooyoung so uncomfortable. Three seconds, the tiny organ is a half millimeter away from Jongho's lips, and alas, Jongho makes his move.

In a flash of light, Jongho whips out the taser from his pocket and tases the deacon, the latter being electrified by the weapon. Jongho keeps tasing him until he collapses to the ground, and then he pulls Wooyoung to run away.

They hid in the nearest alley, panting and caught up to their breaths. Jongho grunts. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't have the crappiest idea," Wooyoung groans. "But hey customer, thanks for saving our arses back there or else we would have eaten some gonads and give birth to a dove hybrid."

"Shut up, oh my god." Jongho blinks at his own words and takes a glimpse of Wooyoung. "Do you still believe in God?"

"I always do. I was raised in the livelihood of Christianity, so never would I doubt the existence of God. Hanging out with you, an atheist doesn't change anything, neither will the strange event that happened back there."

"I respect you for your beliefs then. But be careful," Jongho reminds. "Your parish has gone weird and all, going against the bible when offal is a complete disgrace."

"I know right," Wooyoung huffs. "Let's go home. Mornings aren't so safe anymore just like the darkest of nights."

"And so are the scornful noons."

Wooyoung chortles. "What do you say, shall we stay home forever and never come out of our houses?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna go to hell for this omg I'm sorry Lord
> 
> \+ hope y'all stay hydrated!!


	4. The Chosen Dreadful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightmare, a burned stake and a suicidal attempt. Jongho is bound to see something worst than all.

Jongho opens his eyes, only to find himself in the middle of a pixelated hallway as if he was in a video game. It may be a video game indeed, as he walks through and finds a pixelated board hung up on the vibrant-colored wall.

 

**School Rules!**

_No running_

_No entering faculty_

_No eating_

_No drinking_

_No escaping detention_

_No fourth wall breaks_

 

Jongho furrows his eyebrow in bafflement. He proceeds forward and comes across a room, to which he entered and finds out it's a classroom that seemed to have come out of a poorly-designed game.

It's a deserted classroom with floating notebooks on each desk. Jongho goes to retrieve a notebook, only to have a pad blow itself towards his face. Jongho reels back in surprise, but shakes his head nonetheless and begins to analyze the screen on the 'You Can Think Pad', it reads.

 

 **Determine the percent phosphorus** **and the percent oxygen in P** ² **O 5** **.**

 

"What the fuck," Jongho mutters to himself, sweat trickling down his forehead. "I never paid attention to my Ecological Stoichiometry lectures!"

However, the longer Jongho frantically moves his eyes to rack his mind, the heavier its pressure was. "Fuck this. Is there a give up button?"

Anyhow, Jongho doesn't give up. He thinks carefully, going through his vague memories of skimming his textbooks for upcoming semester exams.

"Where do I even type?" Jongho asks to no one before his eyes peer over and sees a mic on the side of the peculiar-looking pad. "I can speak out loud? Okay then. I won't even explain everything, and my answer is based on my stock memory."

"I don't even know what is happening in my brain, but the percentage of oxygen in the given chemical compound is 56.3."

He waits for a ding or whatever would signal him that he's done with the first problem. There was no ding, neither did the pad sound out.

"It's not satisfied?" Jongho ponders. "My answer is not enough? Darn it, I don't know how to compute for the Phosphorus! I don't know the whole formula! Wait, I could explain further, right? I can explain further… I can. Fuck,"

Jongho takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He tries hard not to stutter, "The formula indicates the relative amounts of phosphorus and oxygen, so 1 mol of the compound contains 2 mol of P and 5 mol of O. There you go. I should be right."

The pad dings this time. A green check makes its way to the corner of the screen, indicating that he had solved the first problem. Jongho smiles smugly, but it disappeared not long after a new word problem appeared on the screen.

 

**When 10.0 g of Phosphorus burns in Oxygen, 22.9 g of a pure compound is formed. Calculate the percent composition from these experimental data.**

 

"Aw shucks," Jongho groans in distress, palming his forehead. "I went through this same problem from my last Ecology summative test."

Very fortunate of Jongho, he remembers answering it correctly back in his summative test. So he starts explaining one by one, step by step to make it clear. He doesn't stutter.

"The percentage of phosphorus is the mass of phosphorus divided by the total mass of compound times 100 percent. The remainder of the compound, 22.9 g – 10 g = 12.9 g is oxygen. As a check, verify that the percentages add to 100: 56.3% + 43.7% = 100%."

The pad dings again and another green check lines itself up under the first check on the side of the pad. Jongho hums in contentment as another word problem flashes on the screen.

 

**Phosphorus forms several oxides, including phosphorus pentoxide, P** 2 **O** 5 **, phosphorus trioxide, P** 2 **O** 3 **, P** 4 **O** 7 **, P** 4 **O** 8 **, P** 4 **O** 9 **, and P** 2 **O** 6 **. Determine the formula for the compound whose percent phosphorus is 49.2%.**

 

"Damn." Jongho heaves. "I forgot the name of the formula."

He hears the smack of a ruler against skin. The muffled sound seems to be coming out of the classroom, and it's so intimidating Jongho's body hair went up in terror.

"Emporiarical? Empiriacal? Empiarecal? Fuck, I don't remember," Jongho grits his teeth. "For what are the circumstances of solving these problems anyway–"

Another smack of a ruler. This time it's louder.

"Well shit, I'm done for."

A red cross appears at the bottom corner of the pad, just beneath the two latest checks to signify that he answered the last question wrong. He expects to discern a new word problem flash itself on the screen, but judging by the space of the checks and cross, there were only three problems and having one more wasn't the case. Anyhow, new words appeared on the screen and Jongho starts to read.

"'I hear every door you open'…?"Jongho blinks. "I'm really done for."

When the door of the classroom opens, Jongho scampers to the window speedily and jumps out of the classroom without turning back. He didn't spare a glance to whoever opened the door either.

He runs. He runs like it's the only thing he could do for good. He runs like he's born to be the world's new recorded fastest runner. He runs like he has no choice, but to run.

That's when a pixelated figure comes zooming at him, almost causing him a heart attack. Jongho is too tired to screech with his whole lungs, that he was speechless when he was teleported to the faculty.

"No running in the halls. Thirty seconds. Detention for you. When will you learn?" The pixelated principal speaks with an echoed voice as if it was spoken through a boombox. He exits the faculty and leaves Jongho alone inside.

29 seconds. Jongho looks around the faculty. The smack of the ruler keeps getting louder and louder, and Jongho assumes it's the mastermind of the game getting closer to where he is. 24 seconds, Jongho doesn't even think of examining some images or scan some details hung up on the wall. 18 seconds, Jongho sees a figure standing outside through the window, and oh.

"COME AT ME! COME AT ME, WHOEVER YOU ARE!" Jongho angrily shouts, his stance heavily relating to martial arts. "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, PUSSY?!"

13 seconds. The figure, with eyes so penetrating and brows too narrowed, enters the room. Jongho backs away by one step, heart skipping a beat when his back met the teacher's desk from behind. He can't back away further.

8 seconds. The figure, with black pupils so tempting to be gouged out of its poorly designed eyeballs, continues to smack its ruler against its skinny hand. It walks towards Jongho, making the male be frozen from paralysis.

5 seconds. Jongho breaths and closes his eyes. _I'm gonna die, I know, I'm going to fucking die–_

3 seconds. The chant continues like a mantra streaming in his head. Jongho keeps his eyes shut, too scared to fight to death.

1 second. He opens his eyes. Like a jumpscare from a typical movie, he makes eye contact with the figure, its face too close to his. Jongho hears a broken sound that was rape to his ear, and he does nothing but let out a deafening scream.

  


 

 

 

He jolts from his bed and widens his eyes, his heart still rummaging against his chest. Sweat trickles down his face, just as it had done the first time he got in the game in his dream.

It was a dream, Jongho assures himself. It was nothing but a dream.

It was probably because he hasn't done his presentation yet, worried to his core about his GPA. He hears nothing but a spark of fire not too far from his room. He hops out of his bed and puts his curtains aside to peak on what is happening, startled when he sees the streaks of fire from a distance.

It's coming from the rooftop of the dorm building facing his. It's a nauseous sight burned behind his eyelids, wishing he could get rid of it that easily. Jongho lets go of the curtain in abhorrence before fumbling to reach out for his phone on the night desk situated beside his bed. He pockets in on his jeans and runs out for the door, staying unbothered without a care in the world. It's three in the morning, no one would be out of their dorm rooms with the exception of Jongho.

Jongho arrives at a bridge near his university. It doesn't take him long to perceive a hooded figure perched on the edge of the bridge despite the poor lighting of the street lights. Jongho tries to call their attention. "Hello?"

The tall, hooded man glances at him once, turning away in an instant. Jongho doesn't actually recognize who the person is, considering that their face wasn't visible under the darkest of the night. Jongho watches them avert their attention back to the stream beneath the bridge, feeling a solemn peace of his mind for once. What he didn't see coming were the unknown person's intentions. Too spaced out in his world of shambles, Jongho fails to see the person jumping off the bridge as an inevitable occurrence. The stream splashes loudly due to the hooded person plunging towards it. Jongho stays frozen for a while. He gazes at the waters with wide, panic-stricken eyes.

"Fuck!" He shrieks. "The fuck is going on!"

Jongho slaps the concrete fence of the bridge in rage upon his failure to foresee the stranger's suicidal attempt. Another splash on the water from the riverside catches Jongho's attention. He turns his head to its direction, watching the person dive to the center of the stream.

Jongho observes the whole scene as it unfolds. The unnamed person manages to rescue the hooded person as he paddles back to the surface. To Jongho's astonishment, he recognizes the two, with their hair drenched and clothes dripping with water.

Mingi was the hooded person all along, unconscious on Yeosang's lap.

 

 

 

 

 

"What were you doing out there at three?" Yeosang inquires.

"More like what was Mingi doing there at this late time?"

"You don't understand." Yeosang berates. "You don't know Mingi, so shut your mouth."

"Boys, don't fight," Seonghwa comes in the living room of the warehouse with a cup of hot tea on his hand. He offers the tea to Jongho. "Excuse him for being mean. Feel free to sleep here for the rest of the night."

"You don't understand either, Hwa." Yeosang grits his teeth. "He shouldn't be here. We're too dangerous for his own safety."

At that, Jongho quirks a brow.

Seonghwa shakes his head in disagreement. "This is the only safe haven for him to stay."

"No!" Yeosang stomps in anger. "We're the embodiment of risk. In other words, we'll be a bad influence to him. We're too treacherous for his own health."

"Calm down!" Seonghwa chides. "We shouldn't be fighting over this. I just want the best for Jongho!"

"This is certainly not the best for him!"

"Stop the commotion!"

As if on cue, Hongjoong steps in with a dry towel, wrapping Yeosang's soaked body with it. Seonghwa heaves heavily, scowling at Yeosang.

"How's Mingi?" Jongho inquires, earning a reassuring look from the manager.

"He's unconscious. Yunho has dressed him in new clothes. His heart is beating normally too, so there's nothing to worry about."

Seonghwa lets out a sigh of relief. On the other hand, Yeosang isn't quite satisfied with Hongjoong's response.

"There's nothing to worry about?" Yeosang derides mockingly. "Hah, as if there's nothing to worry. For Pete's sake, Mingi's mental health is something to watch out for!"

"I'm well aware of that, Yeosang. We'll take care of Mingi's suicidal thoughts and make sure he doesn't kill himself." Hongjoong says as he grips the remote. He takes a seat on the couch beside Jongho, switching on the television and transfers the channel to the one flashing recent news.

" _The National Laboratory is still in a rush to prevent the apocalypse from happening. One of our national scientists and top environmentalist, Mr. Yoon, claims that it's impossible to stop the ozone layer from being wiped out by itself, but helping the earth with small deeds such as planting more trees and recycling materials will slow down the process of the earth's downfall. In the meantime, the search for the country's immune is still ongoing_."

Hongjoong switches the television off in an instant. Jongho remains composed in his seat, glancing at the manager.

"So what brought you here, Jongho?"

"Just spur of the moment thoughts. I had a nightmare." Jongho pauses. "And... Someone was being burned at the stake on a dorm building's rooftop."

"That's normal," Seonghwa fondly assures him. "You can stay in this warehouse for as long as you like. The world out there is not safe anymore."

"I-Is it not safe either if I fly out of this country?" Jongho stammers.

"No." Yeosang deadpans. "But you could go to the southern countries and migrate there. The apocalypse's effect there is weakened, causing it to slow down."

"Dear customer," Hongjoong tenderly holds his hands. "I think it's best for you to get a part-time job as of now."

 

 

 

 

 

Jongho does as told. After having a decent sleep in the guestroom, he takes a shower, gets dressed and exits out of the warehouse along with Seonghwa's permission.

He comes across a narrow street lined with numerous cafes and restaurants hiring new workers. A subtle grin makes its way to his face, heading to the first cafe he sees with a sign of 'hiring new part-timers'.

Before he could open the door, a German Shepherd breed of dog approaches him and licks his foot. As if a switch in him has been pressed, Jongho turns into a soft mode, bending down to pat the dog and caress its fur. Jongho smiles at the dog as it sniffed him and barked.

Jongho doesn't find anything suspicious with the dog before it bites his palm hard, eliciting a surprised scowl from him, as Jongho thrashes around till the dog lets go of him. Jongho, bewildered, ogles his own bloodied palm, as the dog begins to bark repetitively. Jongho gradually tilts his chin up in fear and suddenly, there is a group of interns surrounding him.

"Finally. We've been looking for you all these times."

 _Looking for me?_ Jongho furrows his eyebrows in utter confusion. One intern bolts at him as an attempt to punch him on the stomach. Jongho dodges, however, he is unable to unleash a martial arts stunt as he's caught off guard from behind.

Jongho squirms in the intern's grasp. It doesn't last long till the intern releases his trick and covers Jongho's mouth with a handkerchief, allowing him to fall into slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up.

The room consists of four white walls, a glass pane window, and a door. Jongho had no idea how he got here, for the last thing he remembers was being driven into a corner by some group of interns after interacting with a mere dog.

 _Wait a minute_ , Jongho jolts up from his bed, his eyes shakily looking around the room. Upon discerning the pure white colors of his new clothes, his hospital bed, and the walls, Jongho comes into a realization. The _German shepherd is a police dog!_

Million questions surge across Jongho's mind. _Where am I, how did I get here, why am I here?_ He pulls himself out of the bed, wincing at the sting on his wrist when he doesn't notice the syringe inserted on him. He drags the pole with him and peeks out of the window, tapping violently to catch anyone's attention from the outside. Nonetheless, as if he was nothing but a ghost, doctors and nurses alike didn't mind him.

Jongho gives up later on, banging his head on the glass for the last time. He peers out the window and scrutinizes every single person who passes by his room, observing their unfazed expressions. Jongho was about to give up when he spots a familiar face among the hurried hallway, recognizing the hair adorned with red stripes right away. Jongho doesn't spare a second to question why he has a white bandage wrapped around his head, with a ring of bruise conspicuous on his cheek.

"San!" He yells, nevertheless no one hears him from outside. Jongho hastily rotates the knob of his door, devastated when it's securely latched. "San! San! Someone let me out of here!"

And like a shot to his heart, San obliviously zooms away out of his sight as a nurse pushes his wheelchair towards the opposite hallway.

 

 

 

 

 

Mingi stares at his phone blankly for ten seconds, his ringtone blaring in the air till he slides to the green circle. At the same time, Yeosang comes in with a mug on his hand, gasping upon seeing Mingi pick up the call. He places the mug on the coffee table and perches down beside Mingi. Yeosang doesn't say anything, choosing to listen closely to Mingi's call.

"Hello?"

" _Son_ ," Yeosang's pupils dilate in terror. " _Come home and let me see you._ "

"Mingi!" Yeosang whisper-yells. "End the call and put that down right now!"

Mingi ignores Yeosang's demands, keeping his composure. "Okay, father."

" _Come here right now. Your mother has arrived_."

Mingi's father ends the call. Yeosang can't help but shivers at the venomous tone from the other line. He worriedly looks at Mingi, seizing him by the arm.

"Mingi, don't come," Yeosang says, fright so visible across his face. "He's going to kill you."

"If he says he'll let me see my mom, I'm going."

"Mingi..." Yeosang falters, his chest tightening at Mingi's decision. "You've gone insane. You never had a mother."

"No," Mingi cards his hair with his fingers. "My mother is alive all along. You don't know anything about me, Yeosang."

"No!" Yeosang exclaims, slamming his hands on the coffee table. "You're being lured to your death. I'm telling this for your own risk too, don't ever think I'm not trying to protect you from harm."

Mingi holds his arms close. He smiles fondly at him.

"You've done enough, Yeosang hyung. Thank you so much."

And with that, Mingi saunters towards the door and out of the warehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ao3 wont let me format the numbers to exponents so🤡 lmao I just hope y'all get the gist + I miss playing Baldi's basics :( jk lmao that q-tip makes me piss my pants (subscribe to CoryxKenshin in Youtube y'all are uncultured if you haven't🗿)


	5. Witches and Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seonghwa has a headache. Jongho is still confused. San's condition remains a mystery. Mingi is not the innocent, pure giant they think he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who came early, I posted the Spotify playlist for you to listen while reading and it's on the first chapter!! also follow my dry writing twt acc I'm @deadxxpoets

"You must be so confused right now," a nurse comes in Jongho's room with a tray of syringes.

"Isn't it obvious I am?"

"I'm sorry, I can't answer whatever questions you want to ask. It's not part of my job."

Jongho sighs. "It's okay. I'm used to my own misery."

"I'm really sorry," says the nurse. She gets a syringe from the tray before placing it down on the steel drawer beside Jongho's bed, observing the liquid as it flows accordingly to her hand's directions.

"Can you stay still? You have to get this shot."

Jongho just nods as the woman rolls his sleeves up. She wets his bare skin with a cotton swab soaked with alcohol. Afterward, she squeezes his shoulder and points the syringe at the center of his skin.

"This might be painful," she warns.

It pricks like a bee's sting, but this injection shot is worse than a bee's. Jongho doesn't complain though, he's able to keep himself calm and collected. It tingles his nerves later on, as he could feel the unidentified liquid circulating through his nerves. It takes fifteen seconds for the pain to wear out and Jongho feels like he could breathe again as the woman pulls out the now empty syringe. She places a bandage to the injected spot, dabbing it with her thumb to make sure it sticks properly.

"One question," the nurse halts upon hearing the patient's simple demand. She doesn't answer, a cue for Jongho to carry on.

"Can I go out, even just for a while? I desperately need fresh air."

 

 

 

 

 

"Yunho," Seonghwa calls out, kicking the door closed behind him. "Have you seen Mingi?"

Yunho grimaces at him. "I was about to ask the same question."

"Oh," Seonghwa scowls in distress, running his fingers through his hair. "God. He left the house without anyone knowing."

"It's your fault," Yunho presses, clenching his teeth. "You failed to watch over him as a brotherly figure."

"I know," says Seonghwa with a hint of despair. "I feel so guilty."

"Not only that, but you're trying to recruit the customer into our house." Yunho heaves a sigh, still scowling at Yeosang. "Are you wishing him a death wish? He'll fail to blend in with us because he's nothing but an innocent being."

"Yunho, _stop_."

"You only gained Hongjoong's trust because of your charms and dark past. He entrusted the household to you, yet you can't take care of merely seven people but feed us meals three times a day."

"Yunho, I told you to stop."

"You ceased to stop Mingi and San fighting each other, and now San is confined in a mental hospital. Mingi suffers from severe depression because of his father. You refuse to listen to Yeosang. You let Wooyoung indulge in his religious beliefs. You do all of these even after burning your ex's house? What is it that bothers you so much, Seonghwa? You want us to die before the apocalypse happens? You want me to die? Most importantly, you want Mingi to die? You can't do anything but put us in the devil's sanctum!"

"YUNHO!"

Yunho silences this time. Seonghwa pants, his heart rummaging against his ribs.

"Yunho," he takes an exhalation in, giving Yunho a miserable look. "I never initiated a fight with you. I know I've failed my duties as this household's brother figure, but you didn't have to shove everything to my face."

"You deserve it," Yunho spats. "You may be the eldest one here, but you're incapable of handling things. Thanks for being a horrible person, Hwa. We almost lost Mingi last night, and we lost him again today."

 

 

 

 

 

Jongho scampers out of the hospital room, dragging his pole of the syringe along. He peers around the hallways with bustles from doctors and patients, unsure of where to head. Jongho is rarely confined in a hospital in his whole lifetime anyway, and he's never been to this hospital.

 _Is it really a hospital?_ He asks himself, observing the people around him. It's a hospital as far as he can see, the gloomy air never changes with the unhappy people gathered in one place. But one thing for sure that catches Jongho's attention is the way the mothers talk to their sons through the massive glass panes of their room, a mix of delight and melancholy visible on their way of genuine communication, and Jongho can't help but feel his heart clench.

It doesn't look like a hospital after all.

Jongho walks a bit further down the hallway, following the streaks of sunlight coming from the end. He halts when he has arrived, seeing a door on the left beside the fire extinguisher, which was opened ajar. He peeks outside with a bit of anxiety before he finally steps out of the hallway and let the afternoon sunlight graze over his face.

A garden is laid out in front of him, bushes adorned with flowers planted accordingly on spots to achieve an appeal. Jongho looms forward when he hears ambiguous noises– some that sounded like, thumb sucking? He hears the rustle of the leaves under one's foot, certain that it's not coming from his own bare feet. He's itching to know where the sounds were coming from.

Jongho takes an exhalation as he outstretches his hands to the source of the sounds, which he presumes is from behind the leafy bushes. He touches the leaves, swatting them aside and suddenly there's a little figure bouncing out of the bushes, giving Jongho a heart attack.

"Woah!" He heaves, clutching his left chest. "Y-You–"

A kid stands in front of him, her hair disheveled from being cramped inside a bush. Leaves stuck out of her too, and the sleeves of her shirt were covered with branches and scraps of nothing but leaves.

"You might want to fix yourself," Jongho says, as he gently lurches in front of her. He brushes the leaves and branches off her hair and clothes until she looks presentable now. Jongho wonders why he's doing, but a kid? A kid alone in a garden of what seems like a hospital?

"Did I scare you, Mister?"

"You did," Jongho nervously giggles. "It's okay. You're a little kid, it's clear you want to enjoy your youth by scaring away adults."

"No, that's not really the point," she argues. "I was scared you'll attack me, so I hid... But you look innocent, like me, and you're dressed in a white set of pajamas. You must be a patient here, Mister."

Jongho pats her head with a fond smile. "You're quite a smart one, aren't you? You're so little, not even up to my knees yet," he comments with a soft laugh. "Why are you here?"

"I'm waiting for my friends to come," she answers, pointing at the soccer ball on the corner of the garden. "We are going to play soccer."

"Ah, is that so? They might come anytime from now. In that case, I'll leave and go back. I didn't mean to trespass this garden." Jongho admits, a bit flustered in front of a kid. "What's your name?"

"... I don't have a name." She deadpans, yet still has the guts to force a smile. "I'm sorry, mister, I don't know who I am either."

Jongho reels back in shock. His pupils dilate from the uncanny revelation. It takes him a second to regain his composure and gives the girl a smile. "I see. Watch out for bad guys out there. I'll be going."

When Jongho goes back, he scurries through the hustling hallways. It's not until he sees a dark ebony hair lined with red strands in the middle of the hallway he does stop in his tracks and hide against a wall. The scene he saw for 0.5 seconds, as far as he can make out in his mind, is San still on the same goddamn wheelchair while being confronted by a doctor. A surgeon is tending to his wheelchair, probably the one pushing him everywhere he goes as if he's San's nanny.

"Patient Choi, you do know that there is barely any treatment for your impulsive mindset, right?" The doctor presses, hands gripping on his clipboard. "You have to be confined here for no settled duration of weeks, months or even years, but all we hope for you is to regain your composure soon."

San doesn't answer, and the next thing Jongho hears is a sigh.

"You haven't spoken a word for the whole day. It's fine if you refuse to talk to anyone, not even me, but we've given you enough time to recover from trauma and go back to normal. You haven't recovered, so I must remind you to consume three of your pills tonight before you sleep."

Jongho stood frozen. It all makes sense now. He's in a mental asylum.

 

 

 

 

 

Mingi enters through the worn out door, careful enough to not break the old wood. Nostalgia washes over him as the smell of old books and furniture hit him. The familiar smell of his home from childhood is still the same, yet mixed with drugs and alcohol. Mingi shakes the burden off his shoulders, considering it has always been normal for the toxic and addictive odor to diffuse in his household ever since his mother left the family.

Mingi looks around the house in spite of the dimness, the only poor light coming from the living room ceiling. As soon as a man appears from the dark, Mingi doesn't reel back when there sure was one thing he shouldn't be smelling.

The smell of fresh blood.

"Father."

"We meet again, son."

Mingi glares at the man. "Where's mom?"

In the darkness, Mingi feels his father's endearing embrace engulfs him in warmth. Mingi is thankful, but a hug between father and son doesn't change the fact that his father is the same man who has been tormenting him since his early childhood.

"Father," he calls out once more. "What did you call me here for?"

"It was so I could let you see your mother again," his father says, a sad grin painting his poorly lit face. "And have you live with me forever too."

Horror flashes on Mingi's expression, causing him to walk back in shock.

"Father," Mingi taps his father's back. "Let me go. You're suffocating me."

The elder man does as told. Mingi frowns at him in utter distaste, pushing him away. "Don't touch me," he heaves. "I'm never going to live with you. You're no one but a father who rapes me, sold me to your friends, made me your slave and abused me for the past years."

"Then where are you going to live?" His father asks without a clue of remorse in his tone. "Let's take a look at your mom."

The man switches on the light by the entrance of the porch leading to the backyard. At the foot of the porch, Mingi closely looks at the body lying unconscious. The hair has grown dry, there was barely any living skin the body was wearing, and her hands numbly hangs off the step. The body seemed to have collapsed from an act done, and Mingi has no one to blame but the man standing behind him.

"You killed her," Mingi takes a breath. "You killed her, didn't you?"

His father neglects his remark. "Look at your mother," he bends down to her level, gently caressing her paled cheekbones garnished with splotches of blood. "She's so pretty. Think, Mingi, don't you want to be with your mother? You don't want your mother to be lonely, do you?"

Mingi hitches his breath.

"Besides, it's your fault your mother died. You left her alone, with no one to stay by her side. You left your mother for a new life without her consent. And now you come back with her already dead."

Mingi grabs a nearby vase and throws it to the wall in utter vexation, the ceramic pieces shattering with a clamorous sound against the wooden floor.

"Stop saying that over my mom's dead body!" Mingi raises his voice. "You've always been disrespectful, but not this disrespectful above my mother's corpse!"

The elder man sighs. "You have no respect either. How could you run away and leave your family?"

"Father, you don't understand! I ran away from this house because you mistreated me–"

"I never mistreated you!"

"Liar. You mistreated me and mother. You used us as your toys to play recklessly with. You could've mistreated me and me alone, but why did you always have to involve mom in everything?!" At this point, Mingi had burst into tears. He cards his fingers through his hair. "You never loved me and mom. We were nothing but your servants."

The venom that seeped off Mingi's tongue reaches the man's sensitivity. His father seizes the empty bottle of wine abandoned on the corner.

Everything happens in a flash. Mingi didn't have the time to spare himself a second to save himself. Mingi shields his head with his arms, his heartbeat fastening from fright. The man doesn't hesitate and hits Mingi on the head with the bottle, causing the shards to break into pieces.

Mingi's arms trembled as a cause of abrupt violence. Blood ran down on the bare skin of his arms down to his elbows. An even bigger wound begins to form on his scalp, the thick blood dripping to his forehead as it mixes with his sweat.

"Take back what you said."

"No, I won't." Mingi perches up with the support of the wall. "I'll say it again. I'll never live with you. I have my own family now."

"You're such a brave pest with no purpose in life, you know that?" His father grabs him by the collar. "Live with me or I'll kill you."

"Kill me!" Mingi yells.

Before the man could hit Mingi once more with the remaining fixed part of the wine bottle, the wooden door stumbles down to the ground with a loud 'thud'. Mingi's father barely saw who had trespassed, for as soon as he whipped his head to the door, he was knee-kicked straight on the face.

Mingi falls to the floor, grunting at the pain. He watches as the sickening scene unfolds right before his eyes. The last thing he remembers before dozing off is the trespasser beating his father with a hammer, gouging his eyeballs out with the claws.

Mingi falls asleep with a satisfied smirk. No one but a certain someone would own that kind of hammer.

 

 

 

 

 

Hongjoong pops another pill on his mouth, lighting the butt of his cigarette before taking it in. His eyes remain glued to the projector screen as he watches NERVE lives that were on the current run.

He shifts his attention to the comments of the watchers piling and piling after one another. The dare assigned to a brunette player was 'cut off his toes', said pronoun referring to the brunette's friend who is on camera along with him. Hongjoong doesn't know their names whatsoever, but he does watch NERVE lives often. The brunette player looks a bit hesitant from the dare so Hongjoong could tell they're close friends. The player begins to panic when a timer appears on the corner of the screen, and Hongjoong perceives three comments by a watcher quick before they disappear off-screen to the top comments.

 

**| RENJUN**

he just wants to be stupid for a little longer

 

**| CHENLE**

jaemin is a coward we been knew

 

**| JISUNG**

this is so sad😳 bye bye $1,000,000 dollars🤧

 

As serious as the situation may sound, Hongjoong can't help but find it funny. Someone rushes inside his small room and it doesn't take him long to recognize the person as Seonghwa despite the dimness, the source of light only coming from his projector.

Seonghwa sits down beside Hongjoong, still clutching his head due to a migraine. He turns to Hongjoong and discerns the drugs laid out in front of him, an ashtray for cigarette resting in the middle of his bed.

"You need to stop watching NERVE like it's a series marathon on Netflix."

"I'm sorry, can't do," sasses Hongjoong, swatting his hands to decline Seonghwa's verbal request. "Besides, I'm going to watch Deep Web lives after this."

"Oh god," Seonghwa heaves a sigh. "Hongjoong, you're a manager of a carpentry business. You can't be indulging yourself in drugs and cigarettes at the moment."

"I'll hand the business to you if I die, Hwa, but I think it would be too late to continue to handle the business now that the Earth is gradually dying." Hongjoong contradicts. "You look haggard by the way."

"I know." Seonghwa hisses. "I know."

"Who pulled your red tail?"

Seonghwa grips a spot of his hair. "Yunho. He started it and accused me of Mingi's disappearance. I didn't mean to intend a fight. I swear."

Hongjoong's eyes shot up and glanced at Seonghwa. "What do you mean–? Mingi disappeared again?!"

"Yes," The blonde man responds. "He left no trace of disappearance. Yeosang is nowhere to be seen too, and we can hope... We can still hope, we could always trust in Yeosang no matter how much he hates me."

"Jesus," Hongjoong facepalms. "You keep getting into fights with everyone. Are you alright?"

"You know what, I'm starting to blame myself for every unfortunate event our small family of seven encounters."

"What–" Hongjoong perches up. "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know." Seonghwa pauses. "I don't know, really, I don't understand either why we're continuously facing unfortunate events."

"It's not your fault Mingi and San fought each other. Neither it is when you keep insisting the customer stay here in our rundown warehouse as a shelter from the outside world. You have a motherly nature, Hwa, Yunho and Yeosang must be on their period today."

Like a rare jewel on a crown, Seonghwa laughs for the first time in countless days, though just for a second.

"I'm on your side, Hwa. I swear I am."

 

 

 

 

 

"If Mingi and Yeosang don't show up by eight without any traces of their disappearance, I'm going to fucking call the police!" Hongjoong storms inside the kitchen, causing Yunho to jump a bit on his seat from the manager's abrupt anger.

"Hongjoong, you're behind time!" Seonghwa exclaims from the door as he follows after Hongjoong. "It's already thirty past nine!"

"What's going on?" Yunho worriedly glances at Seonghwa after sipping from his glass of water. "Was he watching Deep Web again?"

Seonghwa nods in response, before averting back his attention to the enraged manager. "Hongjoong, I think we're worrying so much about Mingi and Yeosang! It's past curfew and Jongho hasn't come home yet!"

Both Hongjoong and Yunho's eyes shot up in surprise. Hongjoong almost faints on the kitchen counter. "Goodness. Why does everyone keep vanishing?"

Yunho intervenes, "Jongho didn't send you a text?"

"He didn't," Seonghwa shakes his head. "Where's Wooyoung? Did he leave too?"

"No, actually he did insist on visiting San today in the asylum, but he's too terrified to go out of the room without Yeosang," Yunho replies. "Our top concern is our customer. Jongho has something everybody doesn't."

Hongjoong quirks a brow. "How could you say that?"

"I just happen to sense it," says Yunho, his jittery fingers flipping his pills laid out on the dining table.

Seonghwa cautiously approaches him, reaching out to pat Yunho on his shoulders, "... Is he someone like you?"

"I think," Yunho responds. "That seems to be the case, to be honest."

"Guys, it's almost ten in the evening," Hongjoong calls out as he motions for the other two to follow him out of the kitchen. Getting the signal, they tail along Hongjoong to the living room and sit on the couch. Hongjoong extends his arm to seize the remote, switching the television on. "Time for daily news."

 

**BREAKING NEWS!**

" _The immune for this country of South Korea has been found! I repeat, the immune for this country of South Korea has been found!_ " The reporter frantically declares into his mic, hastily taking glances on the prompts off camera. " _The immune is an ordinary college student, spotted at a downtown street of Seoul earlier at 9:48 before being caught by the government's group of interns for the immune hunt. The immune is now confined at Yonsei University Medical Center, a hospital and an asylum._ "

"That's–" Seonghwa halts. "That's the same asylum San is confined in!"

"What–" Hongjoong pauses. "Why– Why is the immune in a hospital? He could've been brought to the National Laboratory in an instant!"

"I don't understand," Seonghwa frowns in abhorrence. "Is Jongho the immune?"

Hongjoong perches up. Yunho looks at them in puzzlement.

"I don't understand either," Yunho sighs. "Come to think of it, Jongho never came home. He could possibly be immune."

" _God_ ," Hongjoong buries his face in his palms. "All he did was look for a job."

"Don't you think it'll be too late for the National Laboratory to test on him and distribute the blood for citizens of this country?" Seonghwa retaliates. "It's the world's fate. What can we do? An immune's blood won't save the entire world, and chances of it saving a whole country are little. At this rate we'll be exterminated in a few weeks."

"It's over." Hongjoong deadpans. "We're done for. The government is nothing but a piece of shit."

Seonghwa takes an exhalation in. The three of them let silence loomed over them for the rest of the night, the only noises coming from the news being reported on the television. At that moment, they've given up on life's hope. They've always, _always_ admitted defeat from the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention! I searched up Korean Asylum but turns out there are none in Seoul. I guess it's safe to say I only made up one :)
> 
> \+ hope y'all have a great day!


	6. Lick the Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A critical debate between long-term friends, Hongjoong's visitation, Mingi's suspicion and a broken moon.

******** Yeosang lights up another blunt whose flares lit up in the darkest of night. He switches his lighter off as he watches Mingi shuffle in his fetal position.

"Awake already?"

Mingi nods at Yeosang, wincing at the pain weighed on his head. He touches his damaged head, grateful when he realizes the wound on his head had been wrapped up by Yeosang. A smash by a bottle of wine doesn't seem alright for anyone after all.

Mingi looks around to see he's still in the same dim living room of the toxic household he grew in. He shifts his attention to the smoking man seated at the foot of the stairs. "How long have I been–?"

"It's one past midnight," says Yeosang, exhaling the minty smoke out of his mouth. "You left the warehouse at ten in the morning. Remember?"

"I'm surprised you haven't brought the two of us back home," Mingi nervously chuckles. "The hyungs must be so worried."

Mingi discerns the two bodies lying in a distance away from him. His head hurts just by looking at them, clutching his hair from the sheer agony. Yeosang gently holds him close and caresses his hair, an attempt to comfort Mingi from his burdens.

"Your father is still alive, just unconscious," Yeosang remarks, inhaling the rolled paper of cigarettes once more. "I checked his pulse and it's working. Amazing, isn't it? I've gouged his eyes out and he's only fallen asleep."

"Eighty-seven percent of his insides are toxins, what do you expect?"

"Funny, but he has to die before he wakes up. Don't you want him to die, Mingi? Kill the person who had given you nothing for your entire life but extreme despair. Damage his body a lot more painful than he did to you."

Mingi remains silent. Yeosang hands him a butcher's knife he most likely got from the kitchen.

"Look at how soundless and safely he sleeps. He must be having an ecstatic dream. You must destroy that dream, Mingi. Destroy your father's dreams, his existence as repentance for his sins. He doesn't deserve anything but your entrusted hands given authority to annihilate his body."

The more Yeosang applied pressure to manipulate his mind, the more Mingi became jubilant. Mingi cackles triumphantly, butchering the stomach of his father five times as blood oozed out of his insides. A pool of blood forms underneath him, the splashes staining Mingi's cheek and his clothes. Mingi slaughters the body once more, careful with the ribs as he takes out the heart, the liver and short lengths of the intestines.

Mingi throws the butcher's knife on his father's head, damaging the brain. He gives up and leans on the wall, panting. Yeosang claps his hands with a proud smile adorning his face.

"Good job."

Mingi gives Yeosang a knowing look. "You're not going to eat?"

"No," Yeosang shakes his head with a fond smile. "I'm not hungry."

It takes an hour for them to get back to the warehouse, with Yeosang carrying Mingi by the shoulder. Yeosang was responsible for cleaning up the crime scene that he even insisted that he and Mingi burn the materials of evidence by throwing them to the fireplace. It's two in the morning, barely anyone in town is awake. Yeosang still doesn't hesitate to knock on the door of the warehouse.

"Hello? Anyone out there? It's Yeosang and Mingi. Let us in."

A few more seconds passed until the door swings open. Yeosang peers in to see the person blending with the darkness.

"Finally," the person heaves. "You're home. Everyone was so worried, especially of you, Mingi."

"Wooyoung?" Yeosang pushes the door further to let in the poor streetlight from outside. The streak of light hits Wooyoung's face.

"Good evening. You're lucky I'm awake at this hour or else no one would've opened the door for you."

Wooyoung ushers Yeosang and Mingi to come inside and escape the cold. He brings Mingi a thick blanket before gesturing for him to get a good night's sleep inside his room. In the meantime, Wooyoung and Yeosang stay in the living room with only one light switch turned on.

Yeosang wraps himself in a jacket abandoned beneath the couch as Wooyoung fetches a chamomile tea for him. Yeosang accepts the favor with delicacy, grateful for Wooyoung's kindness.

"So where have you been?" Wooyoung begins, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Mingi came to see his father, but he ended up almost getting killed instead."

"That explains his bandage on the head," Wooyoung says. "Mingi looked satisfied when I saw the two of you by the door. Did anything happen?"

"Mingi killed his father in his sleep. Nothing special."

"Hm, I see. I'm glad you and Mingi came home safely, you had the hyungs worried to their core."

"Tell them we're sorry. I had to tail after Mingi to help him erase his affairs with his psychotic father."

"Sure I'll do that, but once the sun rises down and they see the two of you walking around by morning, it's over for their worries." Wooyoung gleams. "By the way, we have another concern as a family. The customer didn't come home."

Yeosang squints at him. "Pardon?"

"Jongho didn't come home," Wooyoung replies. "Didn't Seonghwa hyung tell him to stay here than back to his uni dorms? He didn't show up tonight, not even past curfew."

Yeosang shot up from his seat. "Then where is he now?!"

"It's just us assuming, but he could be the immune confined in the same hospital as San."

"The  _ what _ ?"

"The immune. As you haven't heard yet, the immune of the country has already been caught at 9:28 am, on a street full of small businesses hiring part-timers. We believe Jongho was looking for a job around the same time. Coincidence? I don't think so."

"Hah," Yeosang flopped back down to the sofa. "Jongho as an immune? The chances are high, but I say we get him out of the government's grasp. I mean, an immune is not a pet meant to be kept around as a specimen! We need to save Jongho! If the world dies, we die!"

Wooyoung frowns at him. "Excuse me? Humanity will be saved if Jongho's kept safe as an experimental specimen. Don't you understand that?! Once they get ahold of Jongho's one and only blood and have duplicates of it, then there's still a spark of hope for humanity to survive this stupid apocalypse! Gosh, Yeosang, I thought you were smart."

"You're one to talk," Yeosang hisses. "Listen here, you don't know about governmental businesses. An immune's blood is not free and never will it be. It comes with an expensive cost, if you want to get that blood transported to your veins then you have to offer a huge amount of your money as an exchange. The world is nearing its end and the government's mindset is still fucked up. By the end of the day, all they wish for is to lay their nasty hands on money."

"They're just trying their best to save humanity!"

"How are they trying to save humanity if they're the embodiment of greed! They're going to make a thousand duplicates of Jongho's blood for only a thousand people who can offer them their entire bank accounts, but what about the other people that make up three-fourths of the country's population? They don't get the immune's blood, they die. How can humanity be saved if the government tries to not achieve equality and balanced terms?!"

"And what about that?! At least there will be survivors to represent the country!"

"Way to expose how ruthless you are!" Yeosang pulls the seat cover of the sofa and unearths his emergency weapon, his usual hammer. He unleashes an attack towards Wooyoung, who in turn used the couch as a shield before he sprints towards the nearby shelf of blocks.

Wooyoung throws a block of wood and directs it to Yeosang's forehead, barely missing as it hits Yeosang hard and rigid. A streak of blood flows down the bridge of Yeosang's nose. That doesn't stop him from dueling; he lurches forward to thwack Wooyoung on the head with his hammer. Wooyoung nearly fails to dodge his attack, trapping Yeosang with another block of wood underneath his feet. The latter trips and falls chest-first onto the floor, letting go of his hammer due to the unbearable pain in his ribs. Wooyoung clicks his tongue.

"Do you trust me?"

Yeosang barely manages to choke out, "not in a million years!"

Wooyoung snatches Yeosang's hammer from the floor. He was about to hit Yeosang on the neck with the weapon when the elder male jerks up from the floor and flawlessly stopped his attack by merely holding on to the hammer, pushing it away as he wrestled by brute force against Wooyoung. Eyes wide, Wooyoung backs away to see Yeosang gaining support from the floor itself, his hand resting on the tile.

Wooyoung clenches his teeth in irritation. Yeosang pulls him by the collar and sends him to the ground, but what he didn't foresee was Wooyoung had a backup weapon. Wooyoung hideously slips out a screwdriver from his back pocket. Yeosang reaches out for his hammer and almost beats Wooyoung with it. Almost.

Wooyoung stabs him on the upper abdomen with the screwdriver, twisting the wound to add affliction. Yeosang lets out a choked gasp, gagging out blotches of his own blood. Wooyoung pushes him to the wall of shelves, leaving Yeosang suffering in his wretched state. The shelf makes a thunderous noise of blocks falling, and Wooyoung doesn't mind in the slightest bit. That is until he hears footsteps stomping down the stairs.

"What's the ruckus?!"

Hongjoong comes in running in his bedroom slippers, his hair bedraggled from sleep. He sees Yeosang lying on the floor, the viscosity of scarlet red gradually festooning his plain white shirt. Hongjoong fumes at the sight and balls his fists to see Wooyoung at the center of the murky room.

Hongjoong, getting the best of his temper, marches towards Wooyoung who doesn't budge a muscle nor says anything. He slaps him on the cheek, the sound of skin against skin producing a sharp, honed sound.

The last thing Hongjoong wanted to see on Wooyoung was the face of null remorse.

 

 

 

 

"What time is it?"

"Eight in the morning. Obviously why I came to give you your breakfast–"

"But wait!" Jongho yells to the nurse. "I don't want to eat breakfast here. This room is suffocating me."

"You can eat at the cafeteria if you want," says the nurse. "However, we'll have you back in an hour because you need to take a few more syringes."

Jongho frowns. "And I'll stay in this room again for the rest of the day?"

"No. We're going to transfer you to the laboratory for research."

"What?"

"You heard me. You're going to be held as a research specimen."

"H– How– For what?!"

Before the nurse could open her mouth to answer Jongho, he caught a glimpse of red highlights rush through the hallway. He hastily removes the syringe pole attached to his wrist and bolts out of the room, neglecting the excruciating pain haywiring through the nerves in his arms. He sees San turning to the other hallway just in time. He speeds up to him easily since he's barefoot at the moment, only clothed in plain white pajamas like the usual for hospital patients.

San and his caretaker were slowing down on the next hallway so Jongho finally approaches them in time. "San," he calls out, both San and his caretaker turning around. "San, it's me. Jongho."

The caretaker halts to stop San's wheelchair from moving. San looks at Jongho up and down, from head to toe, till he finally breaks his signature eye smile.

"Can you leave us alone?" He gestures to his caretaker, who in turn nodded and did as told. When he was gone from their sight, Jongho turned to look down at San.

"Where were you going?"

"Cafeteria. You know, to eat breakfast."

"I was about to do the same," Jongho giggles. "Let's eat together."

It doesn't take them long to arrive at the cafeteria. They settled down on seats opposite each other. Jongho had ordered their breakfasts for the two of them, though he only got himself a bowl of soup and a glass of water.

"You don't seem to have an appetite," San comments. "Don't worry, I'm not hungry either."

"Yeah, I'm used to this ever since I lived as a broke college student."

San doesn't cease to notice how Jongho emphasized the 'lived', but he remains silent and takes a bite of his lettuce.

"I have so many questions," Jongho deadpans. "No one cares about answering them, not even the nurse tending to me."

"You might not even know you're already nationwide famous by an alias," San titters. "You're the immune for South Korea. You're humanity's hope."

"I figured," Jongho sighs. "Are they going to kill me?"

"No, not really. They're just providing you additional treatments, place you under research test to make sure your blood is safe for everyone, and keep you away from the dystopian world."

Jongho pauses. He stares blankly on his soup. He didn't quite understand what San meant about the last one, but dystopian? It may make sense to him now, considering all the unfortunate events he kept encountering in this kind of life. Truly, the world will soon be in shambles.

"So what about you?" Jongho inquires, not giving San a glance. "Why are you in a place like this?"

"The last time you saw me was in that convenience store, right?"

"That was a few days ago," claims Jongho. "And... Seonghwa did tell me that you and Mingi had a brawl. I could smell the stench of blood from outside. Did something serious happen?"

"I don't know," San shrugs. "I... They say I have a mental illness that's very hard to treat. I do remember unleashing my anger at Mingi because he joked about an insecurity of mine, and when I woke up, I can no longer walk. I sent Mingi into a day-long comatose. I had a concussion because I was hit on the head with a bat. And Yunho did tell me that Mingi tore a muscle tissue on my leg too, so it hurts a lot."

"I can tell," Jongho replies. "Your legs are basically bound to that wheelchair."

"Yeah. Even the doctors have gotten tired of me. My mindset sometimes isn't so good. I get angry easily, I know that. But they aren't so sure when to get me out of this asylum, because signs of me getting angry are inevitable." San admits, showing signs of guilt. "I feel so sorry for Mingi too. He was nothing but a sweet brother, yet he has a dark side too. He's extremely depressed because of his past, and for me to beat him up like that... I'm so horrible, oh my god."

Jongho takes a moment to scrutinize San's physical appearance. He's sitting on his wheelchair as always, even in front of a cafeteria table. His fingers are trembling, so close to letting go of his chopsticks. San's face morphs into an expression of distaste, shutting his eyes to hold some tears back. He's wearing the same white shirt and pants as Jongho, the bandage on his head still wrapped across his forehead and around the skin of his skull.

"San, if I were you, I would've gone 'fuck my past'. You messed up a lot, you did lots of terrible things, but you learned. And eventually, you're going to use those lessons to take steps closer to a future you desire."

It takes a few seconds for San to process what Jongho was saying. When he does, he lets out a soft sound of relief, smiling at the younger's wise words.

"I'm not sure if I can still have the future I desire but thank you, Jongho."

"Not a problem."

"So, how was everyone back in the warehouse?"

"Uh," Jongho pauses for thought. "Things are very dark. At three am, I saw Mingi–"

"Patient Choi!"

Both San and Jongho whipped their heads to the origin of the voice, only to see three therapists lunging towards San.

"You're exceeding your twenty-minute limit of eating a meal!"

Jongho, astounded, watches the scene unfold. The moment a therapist darted to San and pushed away his wheelchair, San thrashed around with his arms, slamming his metal chopsticks against the table to create a clamorous volume. The therapists hurried as they led the way out of the cafeteria for San to easily access back to the hallway.

"Patient Choi, it's time for your daily meds."

"No! I've had enough of drugs!"

_ Drugs _ ? Jongho ponders, knowing his question won't be answered anytime soon.

"Stop exaggerating a mere medicine made for the sake of your well-being!"

"I refuse to believe it's medicine," San hisses under his breath, still audible enough for Jongho to hear. "You want me to begone anyway. That's all you wish for. Isn't that right?"

"S-Stop saying nonsense!"

In a blink of an eye, San was brought out of the cafeteria, the three therapists leaving with him. Jongho doesn't budge a muscle when he hears the door of the cafeteria producing a loud bang upon being slammed. He can't help but think about what San was whining about; drugs? Begone? It's uncanny.

Jongho dazes at the leftovers on San's plate. His glass of ice cold water fogs on the outside, the liquid caused by condensation trickles down to create a ring beneath the glass. Unbeknownst to Jongho himself, he began to cry.

He's alone again.

 

 

 

 

Seonghwa may be the most intelligent of their little family of seven, but he couldn't put it to words on how he is feeling at the moment.

His head aches. His heart is tightening. It's not physical pain, just something clawing from the back of his brain, and yet he had the audacity to saunter towards the kitchen and fumble through the cupboard wherein the medicines and remedies were stored.

The day for the warehouse is lugubrious, but it wasn't exactly spiritless either. That morning, everyone was relieved to know Mingi and Yeosang came home alive, but shortly after discovering Yeosang's state, the atmosphere of doom loomed over the place again.

Seonghwa clutches his head. At this rate, their family will split into two. All of them were mad at Wooyoung for the venial sin he did to Yeosang, and there seems to be no time soon when he will repent on his actions. Nonetheless, everybody knew the context behind their brawl, and Seonghwa couldn't do anything to stop the rebels from siding with either Wooyoung or Yeosang.

To this point, Seonghwa doesn't even know anymore. He took the responsibility to take care of the household as a responsible mother would, but where is that responsibility now? They were no longer indecisive to rely on each other and make their decisions as a family. They've come to their right states of mind to decide on which side to ally with. Hongjoong and Mingi agree with Yeosang's validation, but on the other hand, Yunho stepped in to claim Wooyoung is the right one.

And Seonghwa... He just doesn't know. Maybe neither of them is right, none of their conspiracy strategies are right. Either way, the world is still destined to be engulfed in nothing more but darkness, so why are they debating over an argument like this?

Seonghwa indulges himself with a handful of pills as if they're his favorite candies. Even in his weak state, the kitchen counter has his support, his arms strengthening to grip on the edge of the counter as an attempt to avoid collapsing. He takes several deep breaths. His quickened heartbeat isn't helping. He's severely sweating, his hair sticking out haphazardly, and he only stops panting when he feels someone bump onto his arm on purpose.

"Sorry, I can't see you in the dark."

Seonghwa didn't have to turn around and see who had done it. He recognized that voice of disdain anywhere.

"What do you need from me? To make my life more of a misery?"

Yunho didn't respond and Seonghwa gets the silent treatment. That is, until a teetering Mingi peeks from the doorframe, sporting a disheveled hair whose scalp is wrapped in bandages.

"Uh, I think Wooyoung got in trouble."

Yunho rolled his eyes.

"He's already in trouble."

"No, more like, his trouble was doubled."

Seonghwa quirks a brow at Mingi, "what are you trying to imply?"

Mingi reaches out to his phone from his pocket. He made a few swipes until it got him to an app. He holds his phone up to show Yunho and Seonghwa the screen.

"Someone's posing as him online, which is illegal. He's using his face to gain money, plunder his own business and whatever the fuck this criminal has to do with money. This is identity theft."

Yunho observes the screen, scrolling further to see more contents. Wooyoung's pictures are posted on the same site, using his identity to commit fraud, sell benefits and invade his bank account and private pins.

Seonghwa gives them a look. "You think the police would still bother to care and catch that criminal?"

"There you go again," Yunho grimaces at him. "Wooyoung's life is at stake. What more do you want from the rest of us? Die?"

"Hold on, what? I never said anything like that–"

"From the way you said it, you did," Yunho presses. "Your hopelessness is not helping. Maybe if you prioritize our well-being over your negativity, I wouldn't hate you as much as I do right now."

"Yunho..."

Mingi remains silent, his fingers tightening against his phone. He shoots the two older men a forced smile, concerned about the tension between them. He feels bad he couldn't do anything, but nonetheless, he leaves the two of them alone in the kitchen with a soft mumble.

"I'll be going."

 

 

 

 

A new day yet again and Jongho has no idea what to do with his life anymore. He contemplated a lot, thought a lot and stared at the white walls and ceiling a lot. Void devours him like a main prey, and he can't just remove the emptiness in his stomach that easily.

He was transferred to the secret laboratory in the basement of the asylum a few hours after San was dragged away from their breakfast table. It happened yesterday, but Jongho couldn't stop overthinking about his life. Moreover, he has been bedridden for hours, only getting off his uncomfortable bed to head to the restroom.

The laboratory room is not much of a difference from his previous hospital room. White ceiling, white walls, clear glass panes as the windows; but with cameras attached to every top corner of the room. Jongho's every movement is being watched.

His life as an experiment subject locked in a suffocating room is subdued. With such a small appetite, he barely ate anything, skin sticking to his bones. He spent most of his hours staring at the ceiling, spaced out, took naps and walked back and forth to kill his boredom. Maybe if he didn't pat a damn dog and pour his affection into it, then he wouldn't be here in the first place.

He's a bit eager to know about San's situation. The way he unbridled his anger at the therapists yesterday was puzzling. San blatantly exposed– did he really expose?– them about drugs and their goal of wiping him out of the earth. What is San currently facing, locked in an asylum as a patient with a mental illness unlike Jongho?

The squeak of the door swinging snaps Jongho out of his thoughts. He continues to look boredly at the plain white walls, not bothering to turn around and see who had stepped in. He had no energy to move his body anyway.

"Immune," says the voice. "You have a visitor."

Jongho raised an eyebrow, "me? A visitor?"

"Yes. He's waiting for you at the top stairs."

Jongho finally turned around. He looks at the scientist, whose nameplate attached to his laboratory coat reads 'Park Junhee'.

"Is there a limit to our meeting?"

"No," says the scientist. "You're not a patient nor a prisoner, just an experimental subject. Just remember to take some syringes by one o' clock."

"Okay. Take me to whoever the visitor is."

Junhee led him to the stairs within a minute. When Jongho saw the figure leaning against the wall on the first step of the stairs from above, Junhee took his leave back to the laboratory. Jongho approached his visitor, intrigued at the fact he actually bothered to visit him.

"Hongjoong hyung?"

Said man pulled his earphones out of his ears and carelessly pocketed them. He flashes Jongho a genuine smile and gestures for him to come with him. Jongho hurries upstairs as per Hongjoong's non-verbal request and starts a consultation first.

"Why did you visit me?" He asks. Hongjoong climbs upstairs to the ground floor with Jongho tailing close behind.

"I need to talk to you. We can talk at the cafeteria," Hongjoong remarks. He changes the topic nonetheless. "So they've been keeping you in the secret laboratory."

"Yeah, but not for a long time yet," Jongho states. "I didn't even know this asylum's basement is a secret laboratory. It's suffocating though."

"Jongho, I'm so sorry I can't get you out of here. I swear humanity doesn't deserve you."

"What do you mean? I– It's fine. I think I was born for this anyway," Jongho forces a smile. "Wait a minute, why are we heading this way? The cafeteria is at the end of that opposing hallway–"

"I need to talk to San. I came here to visit him too."

"Oh," utters Jongho. "I don't know where his room though."

"I know where it is. Follow me, we have to take the elevator."

They came to the elevator just in time, Hongjoong being the one to press the button for 7th floor. This time, Jongho initiated a conversation.

"I've always wondered. What is San's mental illness?"

"It's obvious. He has IED, so you always have to be cautious of what you say and do towards him. San's a really sensitive guy too," Hongjoong sighs. "He's born to a serial killer parent. That is partially the reason why he has mental problems."

"Oh."

The ride in the elevator lasted pretty quick. In less than a minute, Jongho and Hongjoong have reached the 7th floor. The latter led the way to the right hallway, and Jongho is piqued by the rows of mentally problematic patients' rooms, the glass panes adorning their plain white areas.

Through the glass panes, it's almost as if Jongho could see through their feelings. Some patients are lying in their beds either sleeping or spacing out, some are frozen as they sit on their beds or by their desks, and some were impatiently doing unusual things (gritting on a random pencil, sucking their blankets, thrashing around all of a sudden, etc.). Alas, they reached San's room and sees him talking to his private psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist discerns Hongjoong and Jongho through the glass pane. He proceeds to talk to San and from the looks of it, the psychiatrist ended his session with San with a smile. He gestures for San to look around since he hasn't seen his two friends yet, considering his back was facing the glass pane.

The psychiatrist headed out of the room to greet Hongjoong, with San finally noting the two's presence but refuses to look at them in the eyes. Jongho watches as San's psychiatrist shakes hands with Hongjoong as if they've known each other for a long time now, probably due to Hongjoong being San's legal guardian.

"Visiting hours for regular patients last for an hour, but for Patient Choi, he has a limit of thirty minutes. I hope you understand."

"Not a problem, thank you for always looking after San." Hongjoong acknowledges.

The psychiatrist nodded before making haste towards another room of a mental patient. Hongjoong held San's hand close, a reassurance for the patient that he will always be there.

"Let's talk. Both of you missed out a lot regarding matters of the warehouse."

They rode the elevator down and walked to the cafeteria, Jongho being the one to take care of San on his wheelchair. He and San settled on vacant seats near the vents (San's alternative term for fresh air) as Hongjoong bought himself some snacks on the counter. It doesn't take him long to come back to the two patients, taking a seat beside San.

"Where do we start? Ah, about issues in the warehouse," says Hongjoong. "There's a lot happening at the moment. Mingi–"

"Is Mingi alright?" Jongho interrupts. His eyes are shaking, drawn to concern and anxiety. Hongjoong doesn't fail to catch sight of the detail.

"He is. After the night you found him jump off the bridge and Yeosang rescuing him, Mingi went out to bring his association with his father to an end. Everything with Mingi is alright now, so far. He killed his father, is recovering from his head injury and from his mental problems as well, and mostly he's just staying inside the warehouse for most of the days and refuses to take a glimpse of the sun."

"He  _ what _ ?" San was verbally pinched on the first part of what Hongjoong said. "He– He jumped off a bridge?"

"He did," Hongjoong huffs. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. He was dealing with his own life. It's alright."

"That'll never be alright to me!" San shot up, slamming his hands to the table. He didn't stand up however, his legs have betrayed him from the beginning. "T-That'll never... Fuck. Fuck why?! It's my fault! I technically abused the shit out of him a few days ago, and while I'm gone and stuck in this stupid place he tried to commit suicide?! This will never be alright!"

"San," Hongjoong gently motions for him to calm down. "San, you're attracting attention. You don't need to shout."

Jongho figured San only listens to Hongjoong, as he did calm down as told. The other people in the cafeteria were ogling them for a minute much to Jongho's discomfort, even though they were mostly looking at San. Hongjoong takes an exhalation before proceeding to the next topic.

"The one I worry about the most is Seonghwa. He's getting into trouble with the other guys lately, especially Yunho and Yeosang. I don't know what's with 'em, but Seonghwa is getting all the blame recently."

San asks, "is he still insomniac?"

Jongho looked at them with a confused face.

"Yeah, I have a feeling he's overdosing on his sleeping pills."

San didn't answer. Hongjoong continued anyway.

"We're facing a lot of issues right now. Wooyoung became a victim of identity theft online.

"What?" San furrows his eyebrows. "Chase that criminal! Wooyoung doesn't deserve this!"

"No, he does. Especially after starting a brawl with Yeosang and had him incapacitated, confined to bed. It's kind of a remedy for Wooyoung to repent on his sin I guess," Hongjoong crosses his arms. "No matter what, you'll always be the architect of your own misfortunes. That applies to all of us, Wooyoung is the example at the moment."

San doesn't respond and neither does Jongho.

"Don't worry, we'll back Wooyoung up. We're a family. Identity theft may not be that easy, but we'll try."

"You better," San hisses. "Don't try. Do it like your life depends on it."

"Noted," Hongjoong winks at him. "I know you'll skin me alive if Wooyoung dies so I won't let that happen."

A nurse approaches San and grips on the handles of his wheelchair.

"Patient Choi, visiting hours are over."

"Visiting minutes." Hongjoong corrects.

The nurse raises her eyebrow at him. "Yeah, visiting minutes."

Hongjoong grasps San's hands for most likely the last time in a while, looking at him in the eye. "San, get well soon okay? Your mental health is our priority. You can't be at the warehouse at the moment, but please know that we'll always check up on you from time to time as you recover. We're a family, San, no one gets left behind."

"Yeah," mutters San. "Ohana."

Hongjoong smiles at him. " _ Ohana _ ."

Jongho feels his chest tightening at the endearing scene. It feels like watching a tearjerker drama, except it wasn't a drama you can see through screens of televisions. It's real, not an act or anything, and it's happening right in front of Jongho.

Family. Family has always been a treasure for everyone, yet it's also the map that leads to diverse paths in life. Family. It is what Jongho had never thought about a lot. He always had a good relationship with his parents, but life is short. He had to leave home to study for college and never got to visit the house he grew up in, not even during his occasional semester breaks. Everyday and always he did wonder about what his mother and father could be doing at this time.

When San had exited the cafeteria and was brought back to his room by the nurse, Hongjoong takes a deep breath. He glances at Jongho and mutters an 'oh' as if an imaginary light bulb appeared above him.

"Is there anything you want to break to me?" Jongho questions.

"Yeah, actually. I have so many things to tell you, so we're in luck that you don't have a limit to your visiting hours."

"Hm," Jongho hums in agreement. "I'm not exactly a patient anyway."

"First, we need to talk about your school records."

Jongho doesn't answer. He keeps his eyes on Hongjoong however, watching his every movement as the carpentry manager took out a clipboard from his sling bag. He tosses the clipboard onto the table and lays it in front of Jongho.

"I took care of your records for you. The university has officially dropped you out. Since the world is nearing its end and it's very little of a chance for us to survive, therefore education might be a bit... Just a waste of time for everyone's lives. That's why lots of teenage rebels are purposely skipping classes to experience bizarre things and tick stuff on their bucket lists before they die. And you're South Korea's immune, Jongho, your school must've been so proud of you for that. For now, they're cutting off your educational records with the principal's consent for you to spend time and be in collaboration with the National Laboratory to serve as humanity's savior."

"Uh, yeah sure," Jongho says. "Wait a minute, that means I don't have to do my presentation anymore?"

"Presentation?"

"Yes, the reason why I went to your warehouse is that I needed that fucking box for the presentation," Jongho groans. "Are any of you still doing that shit? Now that I'm not doing it any time soon..."

"Yeah. Yunho made the final touch of the product two days after you placed your order. We never gave it to you because either we kept forgetting or you go to us at godly hours."

Jongho shot up from his seat. "L-Let me pay!"

"It's alright," Hongjoong swats his hand. "Seonghwa can turn it into a pot plant."

"That was what I'm going to do."

"It thanks to that box you met us and have us as your friends," Hongjoong happily mentions. "Seonghwa wanted you to be part of our family because you have a special place in his heart like the rest of us. He truly is a mother figure and I respect that. If you weren't here by now, you would've lived a normal life in the warehouse."

Jongho smiles, his heart swayed. "I'm glad I had the chance to be a part of your family, even if that chance couldn't be interpreted into a true life event."

"Exactly. We're at least glad to have you with us," Hongjoong grins at him, before taking out his phone. "Moving on, I'll update you about your biological family."

Jongho widens his eyes at the mention of his family. "You know my parents?"

"I have some close acquaintances in the police station, so I had your background dug upon," Hongjoong made a few swipes on his phone before finally showing the screen to Jongho. "I didn't do this to invade your privacy. In fact I didn't lay my hands on your privacy nor do I know anything about your family but your parents' situation."

"Did something happen? D-Did they go bankrupt?"

"I knew you would ask that. Take a look at this," Hongjoong taps on a video clip, posted on an app Jongho has never seen or heard of before. "Truth or Dare is an illegal platform where people can do truth or dare for money. Kind of like NERVE, except NERVE only has dares. Your parents were famous Truth and Dare players. They escaped bankruptcy by playing Truth or Dare."

" _ Were _ ?" Jongho staggers. If he had to be honest, Hongjoong using past tenses is making him uneasy.

"I'm so sorry to break it to you, but–"

"They died." Jongho blatantly interrupts. "They died, didn't they?"

Hongjoong doesn't say anything for the next few seconds. He looks at Jongho, who was getting the jitteriness, and his heart sank to his feet upon seeing the sorrow in his glistening orbs. Jongho didn't deserve this. He did not.

"They did," he confirms. "Your mother crossed an electricity post, got electrocuted and fell down without any gears, leading to her bones getting crushed. On the other hand, your father jumped off a cliff for $100,000. I think the money has been wired to your bank account. Here's the footage of their dares."

"I don't want to watch the footage," Jongho admits. "It might be depressing."

"Understandable," Hongjoong puts back his phone to his pocket. "I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault. What else did you want to talk about?"

"The Jang Wonyoung case in your school. The culprit has been found," Hongjoong grouses. "According to investigations, it was the nurse."

"What? Wait, really?"

"Yes. It's nothing new in a world like this." Hongjoong says. "Anyways, time for me to talk to you about the main reason why I came here. How do you feel about this whole end of world issue?"

"I– I don't know. I don't even know why I feel calm, but probably because I didn't even know about this global issue from the start."

Hongjoong takes an exhalation in. "People isolated from forests and nature are dying from lack of oxygen every second. The clouds are clearing and the ozone layer is getting erased. You're immune, Jongho. Almost every country has an immune. You have a special role to save your country."

"Then I'll try my best to be of help, even though it's already flowing through my veins."

"That might be difficult. Believe it or not, we're currently living in a dystopian world. People are enjoying their lives to the fullest, not caring anymore if they go to jail. Illegal crime rates are high, diseases and disorders are re-emerging, drugs and alcohol manipulation are rising."

"I get your point. As Seonghwa hyung said, the world out there is dangerous."

Hongjoong pauses. "Are you sure you're okay with being held captive and live a life in an enclosed space?"

"It's fine, I swear. I believe they can let me out once in a while, probably tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. I just need to see the world again one more time."

"Okay. I can comprehend what you're trying to say. I won't stop you," Hongjoong concedes. "Because who am I to dictate your choices? You might not have the chance right now, but live your life to the fullest. I trust in you, Jongho. You're young and vivid, you don't deserve to be confined in a laboratory."

 

 

 

 

Seonghwa trots into the living room, letting go of the weighty grocery bags that he has been holding for a long time now, causing the skin on his hands to turn reddish pink. It's four in the morning, and yet he had the audacity to go to the 24/7 open market to provide for the warehouse's daily needs and necessities.

Mingi walks in with bedraggled hair. He tries hard to open his eyes wide, struggling a bit when he can barely wink an eye open. He glances at Seonghwa, approaching him to take a look in his grocery bags.

"You went grocery shopping again," Mingi asserts. "I told you. I'm in charge of this."

"But you're lazy, so the next time I expect you to do grocery shopping is never next time."

Mingi ignores what the blonde one had said. He shifts his attention to the grocery bags and shuffles through the cups of ramen to check on what Seonghwa had bought. He sighs when he sees something that shouldn't be there.

"You bought so many sleeping pills. Not just one little jar, but three!" Mingi exclaims. "Are you planning to kill yourself?"

"It's for my mental health. I can barely sleep from all the headaches nowadays," Seonghwa argues. "And don't act like you were trying to kill yourself three days ago."

"Mental health, my foot. Have you ever heard most sleeping pills never work?" Mingi reaches out for another item not supposed to be inside Seonghwa's grocery bag. "And why do you have a Zippo lighter here?"

Seonghwa snatches the lighter from Mingi's hand and puts it back in the grocery bag. Frowning, he scrambles to his feet and clutches the handles of the bags before heading to the kitchen to unpack.

"What is the lighter for?" Mingi tails after Seonghwa towards the kitchen like an obnoxious pet. "You didn't buy any cigarettes. You're getting suspicious, Seonghwa hyung."

"It's none of your business."

"Is the lighter for Hongjoong hyung's smoking habits?"

"You could put it that way." Seonghwa deadpans, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He proceeds to unpack, taking out the fresh fruits first to prop them on the decorative bowl meant to be placed on the center of the dining table.

"You're not planning anything bad, are you?" Mingi asks. "Just what on earth is going on in your mind, hyung?"

"Nothing. Don't think about it." Seonghwa says without even sparing Mingi a glance, his back facing the younger male.

Silence loomed over them for a few seconds. Mingi watched as Seonghwa delicately arranged the products in the refrigerator in order for everything to fit in, including the new products that were once in the grocery bags. The only sound in the air was a mix of shuffles inside the freezing appliance and the clanging sound of glassware hitting each other as Seonghwa moved them further to the back of the refrigerator. That is until someone stomps down the stairs in a hurry.

Mingi whips his head to the doorframe of the kitchen to perceive Yunho catching onto his breath.

"It's an emergency," Yunho pants. "You need to see it."

Mingi doesn't spare a second for himself to act shocked. He runs after Yunho, who already vamoosed outside the warehouse. Upon hearing what Yunho said, Seonghwa decided to run out of the kitchen too, immediately closing the refrigerator to make haste towards the two younger men.

There they stood together outside the warehouse, gazing upon the pitch black sky. It's almost a quarter past four, yet a shade of blue wasn't visible on the earth's top canvas. What had the three of them frozen in their spots is the unusual art painted on the sky, a bizarre phenomenon that had never happened in mankind's lifetime.

It wasn't a painting, though it did seem an ambiguous add-on detail to the black canvas. It is real, they could tell it is real even though they can't fly towards it and see if it is true.

"No way," Mingi mutters under his breath.

The moon shines over them, bright and shimmering like a lustrous luxury. Except one thing for sure, it's broken. The extraterrestrial object is shattered into pieces, yet still radiating a convenient source of moonlight for the darkest of the night. Its torn portions are floating around each other, a few cracks discernable on the moon's crust even from a man standing on land's distance. Seonghwa pressed his lips into a thin line.

"The super dystopian era has begun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew I hope you all are still holding onto your horses + have a great day <333


	7. Destiny of the Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongho revisits his dorm. In the meantime, Seonghwa picks a fight with the cops.

"I can go out, right?"

"Yes. We're nice enough to let you go, but don't even think of escaping," Junhee the scientist says, grasping his clipboard. "We can find you again and again."

Jongho stifles a laugh. "Don't worry, I never thought of escaping."

Junhee didn't say anything more. A nurse assists him out of the laboratory, leading him all the way out of the basement and finally, out of the hospital. It's seven in the morning, and Jongho feels like he had been buried alive for quite a long time now that he'd actually seen the outside world again. Sunlight scatters on his face along with the shadows of the tree leaves.

"Be careful, sir," warns the nurse. "The sun is dangerous during noon times. It can–"

"Burn anyone alive since there are barely any ozone layers left," Jongho finishes for her. "I get it. UV rays are much dangerous than before."

"I'm glad you understand."

Jongho clicks his tongue, "for your information, I was an Environmental Science major."

"Okay Environmental Science major, make sure to go back to the laboratory before twelve o' clock."

Jongho didn't need to be told twice. He walks under the beaming morning sunlight that greets him like an old friend, making his way to the familiar route towards his university. Indeed, revisiting the place that was his home for most of his late teen years has always been in his mind. The dorm is first on his list.

He gets there within an hour. He's wearing the same white shirt and pants from his previous days inside the laboratory, so the security guard by the campus' gateway was suspicious of him.

"Is there anything you need?"

"Let me in," Jongho presses his lips. "I don't have my student ID with me. I swear I'm not anyone suspicious. I just need to get in my dorm room for just one more time."

"I don't believe you," says the police guard. "Judging by your weird get-up, you might be an insane person ready to do something illegal inside this private campus."

"Ugh," Jongho groans. "Can't you do your job properly? Stop being skeptical of someone by their appearance. Check what they bring, observe if they have anything with them and see if they carry something harmful. Is that hard?"

The security guard hisses in anger, knowing Jongho had got him with his tongue caught by a cat. The guard checks his body anyway. Seeing Jongho brought nothing with him as he's empty-handed, he lets him inside in no time.

Everyone must be in class, or maybe it's because it's the weekend, since the campus seems deserted. Jongho barely discerns anyone present in the fields, the courts, nonetheless he dashes towards his respective dorm building. He climbs the stairs, still familiar with his usual route to his dorm room, and alas he arrives in front of his door.

The door is unlatched. Jongho opens it in no time, remembering the fact he left it unlocked the night he saw Mingi by the bridge. Nothing changed in his room. It's the same shaggy place from before, proving no one trespassed his area. A mountain of laundry clothes is piled on the corner of the room. His bed remains unfixed, and some of his pillows are abandoned on the floor. Numerous dishes and kitchen utensils are still on the sink, left unwashed. Even his closets are ditched open ajar. Crumpled pages of his thesis are discarded on the trash can. The curtains are drawn close, vibrant sunlight peeking through the fabric, and Jongho remembers the time he sees someone being burnt on the dorm building opposing to his.

Jongho makes haste to the curtains, moving them aside to give him a view of the other dorm building's roof. It's broad daylight contrasting to his horror; the unpleasant odor of smoke meets his nose, and when he peers over his window to check where it's coming from, a huge smoke is coming from the same dorm building's rooftop. As far as Jongho can fathom, three students are surrounding a BBQ grill, a fucking BBQ grill, laughing as they enjoyed together.

Jongho looks closely to the extent he had to squint. The barbeque sprawled on top of the grill doesn't look like barbeque being grilled, except the snacks are pricked on a stick like any other street food. Jongho gasps in terror when he recognizes what they were eating and grilling.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, quickly drawing his curtains close again as the sunlight dimmed inside his room. He tries to remove the image burned behind his eyelids by distracting himself, sauntering towards the night desk beside his bed.

Nothing has changed at all. His night desk is as dusty as ever, the picture frames resting on it almost full of scratches and dirt. They're picture frames of Jongho and his family, his friends and other acquaintances he came across through short times in his life. Jongho shrugs the flashbacks off his head, not feeling a bit of guilt since he never spent a long time with them enough for him to be actually pained if they never show up in his life again. He opens the first drawer from the top of his night desk. To his surprise, four wrappers of small chocolate bars were resting on the surface of the polished wood.

He remembers Yeosang outstretching his hand to give Jongho the chocolate bars just because he hasn't eaten dinner yet. He remembers the cannibal he saw at the narrow streets, barely reaching the convenience store as he was supposed to. He remembers, and sometimes he wonders, where could Yeosang be and what could he be doing at the moment?

He pockets the chocolate bars in the mini cuts of his loose pants like he once did. He opens the next drawer to see a familiar book he hasn't touched for days, immediately grabbing it out. Jongho settles down by the edge of his windowsill where you can actually sit, as the morning sunlight peeks through the beautiful blinds hung by the balcony door. He shuts his eyes, still clinging onto the book entitled 'World's End' with the shimmering lights flecking on his melanin.

Jongho feels at peace for once. Solitude can never dash the hopes of his thriving heart.

 

 

 

 

 

After the news of him being a victim of identity theft reached the concerns of their whole family, Wooyoung wished to find seclusion and peace of mind. He does so by being alone in the dimly lit living room, skimming through the pages of an old novel book he found under the television. He doesn't actually read the entire thing, rather, he just chooses to read words that catch his eyes.

His solitariness faded away so soon. Clamorous knocks were heard from the warehouse's exit door, and the heaviness of the volume makes Wooyoung's heart leap in terror.

It must be the police. The police, maybe, it must be.

The way fists knocked on the door every second after no response gives Wooyoung so much anxiety. He brushes his hair back and let out a sigh, placing the book down on the sofa before cautiously tiptoeing out the living room to approach the door. It's unfortunate of them to have no peephole on their doors, so all Wooyoung did was to calm himself, take an exhalation and rotate the doorknob with trembling hands.

First that greeted him on sight was a bulky man holding a glock pistol. A gun, he has a gun, and more guys dressed the same way as he does accompany him. They stood behind him like a military trained team. They're dressed as cops. The fucking cops have arrived.

"We've come to arrest a guy named Jung Wooyoung. Is he here?"

The blaring noise of glass breaking into a thousand pieces arouses from the kitchen, and Seonghwa comes out of nowhere after a quick series of hurried footsteps in the hallway. Wooyoung nervously turns to him. Seonghwa glances at him with full worry as his eyes were shaking from extreme fright. The best Seonghwa can understand from his jittery body is to help him. Seonghwa presses his lips together, averting his attention to the armed cops.

"Why are you looking for a guy named Jung Wooyoung?"

"We were told we'll find him here. He committed a crime of handling illegal transactions that require ten years of prison as punishment."

"To assure you, the Wooyoung we know of has done nothing wrong," Seonghwa contradicts. "You're suspecting the wrong person. You don't know the whole story, so you're not supposed to arrest someone with no evidence."

"We can tell you're feigning innocence to defend a criminal. Besides, we have evidence, and it's all on the internet."

"If you can tell I'm feigning innocence, then you're doing your job wrong."

The cops didn't respond anything more to counter against Seonghwa's witty arguments. Hence, Seonghwa scoffed and continued to speak.

"You said you have evidence and they're on the internet. Have you ever heard that the internet manipulates the massive population from all over the world? It has the capability to control people's minds that you don't know which is true or false anymore," Seonghwa deadpans, keeping his intimidating aura. "What you saw on the internet are crimes done by not the Wooyoung we know. Someone had the guts to steal his identity and pretend to be him. They used him as a pet, worse a toy to achieve wealth. You're accusing the wrong person."

"I'm sorry sir, but whoever you are, we were brought here by the commander. We have to do what we were told to do."

"Are you afraid to be a disappointment? A disappointment because you are going to fail a request you've been entrusted to accomplish? Are you afraid of the consequences such as losing money or worse, losing your job because you failed to please the commander, even if you're well aware that you've been entrusted with a request that can affect the life of someone who doesn't deserve it? A life of an innocent, and possibly can ruin potentials of an individual?"

The leading cop hisses, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you fail to understand what I'm saying, then you're not worthy of being a licensed cop. This implies that you have no wits but the wrong intentions of accusing someone else."

Silence loomed over them once again. Wooyoung stood there frozen, taking some time to process what Seonghwa was trying to say. It's quiet until someone enters the scene like a scripted cue, the warming of throat resonating throughout the rough atmosphere. Wooyoung decides to not do anything but watch the scene unfold before his sight.

"What's the matter here?" Hongjoong inquires. He looks at the cops with scornful eyes. "I heard everything all the way upstairs. You're here to arrest Jung Wooyoung, aren't you?"

"Indeed."

"I'm friends with the city's chief of police. We suggest you come back home empty-handed instead of arresting our friend."

"What does being friends with a chief have to do with that?" The cop derides. "You have no right to defend a criminal. Stay back now before you get arrested too."

"Then you're letting a real criminal prance around!" Seonghwa yells. "Wooyoung is innocent. We're not lying. Is that so hard to believe? The structure of the media alone is enough proof. All of you are being fooled."

"He's right," Hongjoong assures. "You're tricked because of this whole identity theft case. The criminal you're looking for is not here. Maybe if you outlook the entire situation then you wouldn't have wasted your time coming here from the beginning and instead searched for a dangerous person sauntering in this town."

"We just have to know which of you is Jung Wooyoung and have him arrested!"

Seonghwa heaves, "I'm telling you, Wooyoung is not–"

"That's me, I'm Jung Wooyoung. I did a crime," Wooyoung jumps in. "Hereby I am guilty. I admit it."

Seonghwa and Hongjoong looks at him in confusion. Some cops ran up to him and cuffed his wrists. Wooyoung stays calm as he doesn't flinch when they dragged him out of the warehouse, his wrists now bound together.

Hongjoong stares at him as if his life flashed before his eyes. "No– Wooyoung, don't do this–"

"I'm sorry."

Wooyoung shifts his attention to Seonghwa, an attempt to telepathically deliver a message to him. Seonghwa seemed to comprehend by scrutinizing the melancholic look on Wooyoung's face. He gulps as Hongjoong frantically shouts at the cops to release Wooyoung, but all the response they got was the slam of the door and the dimness of the house. Hongjoong gazes upon the void darkness, trying to hold back tears.

"What a pity. Our defense wasn't enough to stop their absent minds," Seonghwa sighs.

"That's not it," huffs Hongjoong with a croaky voice. "Just... Just how many more friends are we going to lose? San is confined forever in that shitty place, Yeosang is on comatose for a few more hours, and now Wooyoung... Did we do anything wrong to make the world be against us?"

Hongjoong looks down on the ground, the colors on his face fading away faster than the speed of light. Seonghwa comes closer to pull him into a comforting embrace. Hongjoong doesn't cry, he holds back his tears as if he's an expert and rather hitches a heavy breath full of burdens he has always been carrying. Seonghwa weakly patted him on the shoulder.

"You need to rest."

He shoves Seonghwa away. Seonghwa didn't flinch. He watches Hongjoong storm out of his sight in extreme rage, as he stands alone in the murky lobby of their warehouse. Seonghwa places a hand on his waist and brushes his hair back in distress, bawling his eyes as he blanks out staring at the wall.

 

 

 

 

 

Jongho has that strong desire to wish for a better world. If only the apocalypse won't happen in the first place, he could've lived his preferable future after graduating from a prestigious university. If he wasn't the immune, he could've been spacing out in a three-hour lecture and still ace his summative test at the moment. If only he wasn't immune, he wouldn't be locked in here.

Why can't he accept reality?

Because it's hard. Instead of lying on his bed, Jongho was on the floor, facing the ceiling. It's hard to accept reality. Surely anyone could say the same by experience. His thinking may be disorganized, his eyes bloodshot, yet he denies the fact nothing is wrong with him. The vision he sees on the ceiling says otherwise.

There is a place in Jongho's heart that ushers him to doodle over the plain white walls, only there were no pens or coloring materials in his room whatsoever. Just the IV pole beside his bed, medical carts and emergency wheelchair positioned in the corner. Jongho stays lying flat on the freezing floor with no plans of getting up from the surface. His eyes remain widened, still staring emptily on the ceiling.

Is the world really going to end?

The hundreds of thoughts streamed across his mind. Heart palpitating, Jongho clutches his aching head and clenches his teeth in anger. No, it won't. Once he offers his blood to the public, humanity will still exist though lesser than before. Before the world goes extinct, there will still be a few people to make up a population. Everything is possible, however the voice in Jongho's head is against his positivity.

 

_Everyone will die._

_And so will you._

 

Jongho pants heavily. No way. He promised himself he would stay alive. He promised his parents he'll be successful one day. He promised his family he'll earnestly work for a living. He promised.

And yet, those promises were meant to be broken in the first place. Broken like his heart, in shambles like his soul.

Words were starting to draw themselves on the ceiling. Jongho's eyes were getting heavier, a sting forming itself in his head like the worst migraine. He watches the colored words crawling their way disorderly across the white surface.

 

_dna su nekasrof sah doG tuo depiw eb lliw htrae eht enogeb lliw sdneirf ym etar siht ta siht evresed t'nseod gnoojgnoH detnioppasid eb ot gniog era stnerap ym laref gniog m'I ereh deppart era I dna naS dab si siht espylacopa diputs a ot esol lliw ytinamuh eid ot gniog si enoyreve eid ot gniog er'ew yako ton si gnuyh awhgnoeS are naipotsyd kcuf pleh deen ew desserped si igniM revo emoc tsirhC_

 

"Immune!"

Jongho jostled abruptly as a young scientist darted to his direction, aiding him to stand up and sit on the edge of his bed. Upon recognizing the man, Jongho sighs in relief.

"Jeez, why were you on the floor?" Yuchan inquires, rubbing his back for comfort. "You'll have to undergo dialysis in the laboratory. Hurry, we better get going or else Junhee hyung will blow a gasket!"

And while he was escorted out of his room, Jongho gives the ceiling one last look. It was blank as ever, no trace of sloppy, handwritten scribbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to ask who do y'all think are the ones going to survive :D Tell me your opinions hehe + stay hydrated always and spread positivity♡


	8. Echoes of Melancholy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho's visitation, Mingi's peculiar meeting with a person and a burned house.

"Seonghwa hyung?" Mingi peaks from the doorframe, his spectacles almost sliding off his bridge. "Can I go out?"

"Go to where?"

"Check up on my mom," Mingi says. "I believe she has been given a burial by the police without financial issues."

"Okay," Seonghwa permits. "Send my regards to your mother. I believe she'll be happy to see you."

"Thank you," Mingi beams a smile before he vamooses out of the warehouse with only a little money saved in his pockets. Seonghwa places down the book he was skimming before stretching his hand to shrug the man sleeping on the couch opposite to where he was sitting.

Yeosang has recovered from severe pain in his head while on short-term comatose with Wooyoung at fault. Ever since they had an abusive brawl, Seonghwa never let them see each other again inside the warehouse. But now Wooyoung is in jail, it's an extra relief for the other family members that Yeosang certainly will never get to see his once-friend of five years ever again.

"Yeosang," he gently whispers. "Yeosang, wake up. It's your meal time."

Yeosang slowly sits up from his lying position, carding his fingers through his hair. He squints at Seonghwa with heavy eyes. "I'm hungry."

"Exactly why I woke you up. It's your meal time."

"Okay," Yeosang answers as he scrambles to his feet, getting off the couch. "I'll go out."

"Be careful on your way."

"It's not like I'm going to disturb the souls because I won't." Yeosang hisses.

Seonghwa exhales. "If you say so."

When Yeosang has fixed and groomed himself and finally went out of the warehouse like Mingi, Seonghwa makes haste to the kitchen and starts arranging the array of fruits in a formal basket. In the meantime, Yunho enters the kitchen and treats himself to a glass of water along with his medicine. Seonghwa takes note of his presence and calls out for him.

"Yunho?"

Yunho turns to him, settling down the emptied glass of water on the kitchen counter. Seonghwa fondly smiles at him. "Can you do me a favor?"

Yunho didn't respond, but the way he looks at Seonghwa was penetrating as if waiting for him to continue. Seonghwa gets the signal, grabbing the handle of the basket and hands it to Yunho.

"I'd like to have you visit San and Jongho, if you don't mind."

Despite Yunho's ill temper towards Seonghwa, he swats his hand and shakes his head, already holding the basket of fruits. "I don't mind."

Seonghwa gives him a smile once more before he trots to the living room. He fumbles to grab his tote bag hanging on the rack of the door to the living room, unaware that Yunho followed him and came in to see him ready to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To pick up Hongjoong. Who knows, that man might be drunk off his arse right now."

"Okay," Yunho answers. "Lock the doors. We wouldn't want to get robbed."

"I will." Seonghwa simply replies. "I will go to the market before going to Hongjoong."

"Are you going to cook us dinner?" Yunho asks.

"Yes. Any problem with that?"

"Nothing," Yunho presses his lips. "Uh, just don't burn the house down."

 

 

 

 

 

"Mother, I'm sorry you have to live a life full of burdens as a parent. I'm sorry you never saw me grow up, not even when I'm finally taller than you, I'm... I'm really sorry. I'm sorry you have to marry the wrong person and be forced to get out of the country."

Mingi caresses the stem of a tulip. He sits on the grass before his mother's grave, carved beautifully with her name and wreathed with flowers and leaves. Mingi has no idea of who placed the natural gifts there whatsoever, but he carried a ravishing bouquet of thornless roses and a single tulip. He would very much ask all gods and deities to bless Seonghwa for being a caring brother figure; he'd actually given Mingi most of his money just to afford flowers for his deceased mother.

He thinks about their good memories, the ones when they were still a stable family that stood for each other. Hearts blossoming with delight, they had no worries. Mingi was just an unproblematic boy in kindergarten who would run to his mother's loving arms after class hours while his father would do farm work as they owned a farm back in the old days.

Mingi narrows his eyebrows when he feels a presence behind him when there shouldn't be. He's the only lone living soul in the cemetery, no one else. He slowly turns around like a scaredy-cat, afraid he might see something he shouldn't be seeing. There is.

Mingi squeaks in fright, falling flat on his buttocks and loses his balance. Stood away from him is a woman who looks like around his age, dressed in white that had been begrimed with soil. Her hair was in messy braid, but if Mingi had to be honest she actually looks drop dead gorgeous.

As she approaches nearer, Mingi grew more and more anxious. He shivers in fear, clasping the bouquet of flowers close to him as he quivers, "who are you?"

The lady finally halts in her tracks, just a few inches away from where Mingi is sitting. "Forgot my name. Been buried alive for too long."

Mingi widens his eyes, "buried alive?"

"Sounds bizarre, isn't it?" She speaks with a delicate voice. "I managed to dig upwards and now my nails are broken from scratching the soil... Ate nothing but worms and bugs."

Mingi looks at her with utmost concern. "You should rest."

"I don't need to go back to bed– there's no bed here."

"You look tired."

"I'm not tired, I'll be fine. I already have my coffin and so does Jongho."

Mingi squints. "Pardon?"

"Oh, Jongho is my ex," she says, looking down to the ground with crestfallen eyes. "Broke up in highschool because of some issues. It doesn't bother me anymore, but sometimes I still crave for him... That's why I made a grave for him."

The woman points at the grave beside his mother, a grave hollow beneath the grasses and toiled soil. Sculpted on the cement is Jongho's name, birthdate and 'a loving son, brother and friend' in a formal, elegant script.

"Bloody hell," he gasps. "You're not talking about the Choi Jongho I'm thinking, are you?"

"If he's a brunette, then we're thinking the same."

"The–" He pauses. "H-How were things between the two of you?"

"No memory of them either. After my death, I became narcoleptic, but I did have dreams of Jongho and I being happy in paradise... A paradise that can never exist in a world like this."

It strikes Mingi like a bullet directly to the heart. Now that he had taken a closer look of the girl, she looks miserable in every way. Broken like a fragile glass she is, he places a hand on her stiff shoulders, rubbing circles to comfort her.

"It doesn't seem like we can wait for paradise in an era like this, but maybe in our next lives we can."

"Sounds impossible. I'm going to crawl back to my grave after you leave anyway."

Mingi fondly smiles.

"Nothing is impossible."

 

 

  
  


 

 

Yeosang settles down on a vacant chair by the stainless window of the convenience store. The dark clouds in view, he opens his bottle of water he purchased seconds ago, his black hoodie thrown over his head.

He's not surprised that there are actually few people in the convenience store, the cashier included. Sme of the people didn't look normal as him. Some of them were delinquents, holding a plank of wood and even a baseball bat. Typical street rebels in a dystopian era. Nothing is surprising anymore.

Yeosang stays for a while inside the convenience store to refresh and feel the coldness of the air conditioner before pocketing his water bottle, stands up and exits the store, his hoodie still over his head. He glances at the left road, about to head to its direction, but then remembered Mingi is in the cemetery. He halts upon realizing and pivots his heel the other way, now headed to the north cemetery different from the one Mingi is in.

By the time he arrived, he picks up a scythe hidden under a bush. It has been his scythe, always concealed beneath thorns and leaves. Sliding on the mud, he walks towards the rows of graves looking grim and uninviting. H soaks the ground using the lukewarm water in his bottle. Yeosang wields his scythe against the moist soil. He digs and digs until the tip of his scythe taps a glass and he sees flesh beneath. He grins smugly.

Yeosang wears black and lurks in the dark, but he has the most colorful mind.

 

 

 

 

 

The first thing Jongho hears when he wakes up is the familiar, nightmarish voice saying 'welcome home'. After he eats breakfast, he hears the same thing, and by the time he goes back to his hospital bed, he hears the same words twice.

_ Welcome home welcome home welcome home _ .

It sends chills down Jongho's spine. It rings in his head three times in a row after he lies down on his bed. Jongho flinches in surprise, turning around to see if he wasn't hallucinating. There was no one around him, and certainly no one to tell him a welcome home. Jongho threw his blankets off the bed. "Dang it! What am I on?!"

Only the voice answered him back with nonsense.

_ Welcome home _ .

Jongho stares at the plain white walls. Honest to god he'll get his knickers in a twist if he's really having auditory hallucinations. Worst scenario he could imagine, grousing at the truth of hearing two words at almost every second.

"Immune, you have a visitor." A voice says from behind, following after the swift swing of the door. Jongho didn't move.

_ Welcome home. _

The voice is still there, not the doctor's but the voice in Jongho's head. His memory affected, he could no longer remember where he'd first hear the familiar voice.  _ Welcome home _ , it says. Why was he welcomed home when doesn't have a home to begin with?

"Immune."

Jongho's heartbeat sped up into an irregular beating pattern. He burst into sweat. Welcome home. No, no one would ever welcome him home. He doesn't have a family, a shelter, and a decent life. He's just Choi Jongho, born to be the so-called humanity's hope like an invented toy in the midst of a sunless global issue.

"Immune, can you hear me?"

Jongho bit his nails nervously. Welcome it said. To home it implies. Who'd ever welcome him to void must be playing pranks on him. Jongho heaves a deep sigh, lips trembling, cheekbones hardening–

"Immune!"

Jongho finally jolts from his fetal position, almost hitting his head on the headboard. He rotates his body around to see the scientist standing by the doorframe.

"What's wrong with you?" Junhee asks with a gentle tone. "Is everything alright?"

"It's nothing," Jongho blurts. "It's nothing, I swear."

"You were shaking. I saw it," says Junhee. "And your ears are red."

Why did you come here?"

"You didn't answer my question, yet you're questioning me?" Junhee presses, gritting his teeth. "I need to watch over your condition to ensure your blood is safe to be shared with thousands of people."

"I am healthy."

"I can't tell if you're healthy or not. Why were you shaking?"

Jongho looks up to see the scientist's penetrating glare, his eyes boring a hole through Jongho's existence. Felt like that to him, and Junhee breaks the contact by pushing his glasses to his upper nose bridge. Jongho knows the scientist wants an honest answer from him. He knows it'll benefit his health records as an immune, or at least that's what he thought.

"I'm having auditory hallucinations. Happy now?"

"Hallucinations? That doesn't change the condition of your blood unless you reach what you're not supposed to reach enough for your blood to turn unhealthy. Hallucinations considering your non-changing surroundings are proven to be normal. You've never been locked in the same place for several days before, have you? It can influence your mental health, but it won't affect your physique."

Jongho doesn't respond for a minute. He made sheep eyes at the nameplate stapled on Junhee's laboratory coat, the same thing he'd seen on him when he called him out for Hongjoong's visitation. Emblem of the secret laboratory shining, his name engraved in black ink, it reads Park Junhee as it should. Only this time, the 'a' in Park is shown as red, standing out the most among the black letters. Not only that, but even the two last letter 'ee's of his first name is displayed as yellow. Strange.

"Immune, you have to get going. You have a visitor."

Jongho listened for once this time. He scrambles to his feet and heads out the door, led by Junhee to the staircase. "Can you go to the cafeteria by yourself? I'm sure you can spot your friends there right away."

Friends. The last time Jongho heard that word was from Hongjoong. He's considered as their friend. He is their friend even though they haven't known each other for more than a month. He is a friend to them, and thinking about it makes Jongho want to combust his flattered heart.

Jongho nods at the scientist, who in turn gets his message and disappears to the laboratory. In the meantime, the immune wends his way to the cafeteria without any hurry, arriving there with just in his boring, white pajamas. His hair was undone and eyes open half-lid, he doesn't bother about anyone ogling him in disbelief. He may look shitty at the moment, but his existence is shittier than anything else.

By the time he arrives at the cafeteria, he sees Yunho and San near the vent. They seemed busy talking to each other, not even looking up to see Jongho heading towards their way until he draws nearer and abruptly flops himself down on a vacant chair beside Yunho.

"You've arrived," Yunho utters before gesturing to the fancy basket on the table. "Seonghwa bought them for you and San. Eat as much as you would like."

"I told you I have no appetite." San fizzles.

Yunho wryly smiles at him, "I wasn't talking to you."

"You brought fruits? How thoughtful of Seonghwa hyung," Jongho's face brightened. "I have something to give too."

Jongho whips out all chocolates in his pocket and tosses them to the table. "They're Yeosang hyung's," he says. "Gave them to me one night when I skipped dinner. I never got to eat any of them though. I'm not really a chocolate enthusiast."

"That explains the muscles in your arms," San remarks.

Jongho dismisses his comment and changes the topic. "So what were you talking about?"

"Issues among the family," Yunho replies. "It's super dystopian era. Of course things would happen."

"Oh? Sounds interesting."

San pokes him on the elbow, "you start then, customer."

Jongho glances at the both of them as Yunho unwraps a piece of Yeosang's melted chocolate. San stares at Jongho a bit spookily, awaiting whatever he is going to say. He coughs dramatically.

"Well, I may or may not have seen a cannibalism party on the rooftop of one of the dorm buildings when I went to revisit the university," Jongho responds. "I almost fell asleep in my dorm though. I had to be back in the laboratory before noon."

"That sounds like a message." Yunho touches his chin in contemplation about the first thing Jongho said.

"Must be related to Yeosang." San adds.

Jongho looks at San with a confused face, but shrugs it off anyway. "So how are the other guys in the warehouse?"

"I'm not sure where do I start, but there are indeed many unfortunate events that had been happening in the family," Yunho takes an exhalation in. "Among them all, I'm the most worried about Yeosang, now that San had mentioned him."

Jongho leans closer. "Why is that?"

"He has a dark past, just like the rest of us," San begins. "He's a cannibal."

"Twelve years old," says Yunho. "At twelve years of age, he turned into a psycho. Massacred his family, then ate their livers and hearts out of sheer anger and starvation. His family never gave him anything to eat anyway."

"It was tragic." San presses.

Jongho stays silent for a moment. He stares at the wrapper of the chocolate bar Yunho crumpled for himself. It was originally from Yeosang, given to Jongho with much concern and consideration because he had nothing to eat for dinner, and here the sweets are. Jongho will never forget that memory carved to his mind, that memory when Yeosang didn't look fazed when he mentioned about the cannibal he encountered in the midst of the dark streets.

_ To him, the word cannibal doesn't look so good coming out of Yeosang's mouth. _

Jongho doesn't budge a muscle, but he does observe the sympathy drawn all over the older two's faces. San's hands are jittery as always, and Yunho lets out a sigh as he fumbles a tangerine from the basket he brought. Jongho doesn't hesitate to blatantly question what he should be questioning. The way Yunho and San straightforwardly told him someone else's disastrous past is questionable after all.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you asked." San shots back.

"To be honest, I'm most worried about Wooyoung," San staggers in his speech. "D-Did something happen to him? I never heard of him for quite a long time now, nor had I seen him in person."

Yunho sniffs a bit dramatically.

"Sorry to break it to you, San, but Wooyoung's in jail."

"What?" San's eyes widened, his heartbeat quickening, before he regained his normality and lets out a cackle. "What a nice joke. You got me there, Yunho."

"I'm not joking."

The look in Yunho's eyes were dead serious, as if they'd bore a hole through San. San's heart sank to his feet, knowing well Yunho never lies. If he tells a joke, he'd usually laugh 0.5 second later and lose his composure, so San is at least certain Yunho wasn't joking, not in the slightest bit.

"Wooyoung isn't in jail, is he?" San asks again for confirmation. "He is not in prison. Right?"

"He is. Wooyoung is in jail. You heard me."

It's as if Yunho had unstrapped the invisible leash in San. The mental patient shot up from his seat and lurched towards Yunho, landing a straight punch on his face. An uppercut to his chin follows after, and by the moment Yunho has lost his balance and flopped to the floor, Jongho begins to panick and yells for help. To Jongho's signal did the other people in the cafeteria intervene, some personnel helping Yunho stand up as therapists who were queueing bolted to San in order to restrain him. Yunho clutches his wounded jaw.

"Shit, this is getting out of hand."

Jongho offers the taller man to lean onto him as support. "Are you okay?"

"Kinda."

With the aid of the therapists that came in the scene to help, a violent San has been held back. That didn't stop him from screaming and prattling, though the way he thrashed around wasn't enough to let himself go from the therapists' grasps.

"I'll get you back for this!" San shouts vehemently, tears already streaming down his blotched cheeks. "Damn it! Hongjoong hyung promised! Wooyoung doesn't deserve this!"

Fortunately for them, San has been dragged away like always, his screams dying down the moment he was pulled out of the cafeteria. Yunho perches up on his seat with a sigh.

"I feel so sorry for him. But I'm more sorry that you had to witness that."

"No, it's not a problem. I've seen him flail around like that for more than once already. Besides, it can't be helped. He has an angry disorder."

"Intermittent explosive disorder," Yunho corrects. "He usually has reasons on why he gets episodes of anger, but sometimes the anger can be unwarranted too. It scares me."

"It scares me too," Jongho assures him. "My heart goes out to him. I can't believe he has to feel this way."

Yunho exhales.

"San had a past of good spirits," he says. "But after a tragedy, every fragment of his existence has been flawed."

 

 

 

 

 

"Mingi? Where are you?" Yunho speaks over the phone as he steps out of the convenience store, a plastic bag of supplies hanging from his arm. "I bought supplements for everyone's illness. We shall be alright now after all of you take your meds."

" _ You didn't buy Seonghwa hyung a new jar of sleeping pills, did you _ ?"

"No," Yunho responds, caressing his the wound on his jaw covered with a tiny bandage. "Never. He has two jars that haven't been emptied yet. Adding more to his count is too dangerous."

" _R_ _ ight _ ," a sigh was heard from the other line. " _ I hope Seonghwa hyung is okay though _ ."

Seonghwa... He must be fine. Yunho gazes at the sky, tilting his head to place his phone between his ear and shoulder. He fixes the plastic bag and holds it with his bony fingers as the gust of wind passes through him like nature's whisper. He freezes when his heart thrummed. The clouds were dark as always with no signs of the sun appearing again in their sky. Murky, as if it was going to rain, yet the city of Seoul doesn't look too deserted nor too crowded. A few strangers walked past him, across the street and through the alleyways.

" _ Yunho hyung? You still there _ ?"

Yunho's heartbeat quickened. He knew something was wrong. Something big is wrong, not when he saw a huge smoke in the sky coming from the direction of their warehouse. 

"Mingi! Come home this instant!"

He hears the sudden rustle of grass from the other line, probably from Mingi flinching at his abrupt fury. "W-What?"

"Come home! Now! I'll meet you on the way!"

" _ Wait, but why the sudden–? Why do you sound like you're about to blow a gasket– _ "

"Mingi."

" _ O-Okay okay I'm coming– What– Yunho hyung, why are there fire trucks heading to our– _ "

Yunho never processed the rest of what Mingi said, immediately sliding his phone back to his pants. He darted towards his route on the way home, using a shortcut through the narrow alleyways and almost fell into a sewer. He tripped on his own feet thanks to his long legs, but it takes him less than a second to scramble back to his feet and proceed to running. He could beat Usain Bolt just because of an emergency from home.

Half a kilometer away from the warehouse and Yunho was too hurried to see someone running towards his way too, eventually bumping heads with the person. Yunho recoiled in pain, clutching his head. He looks up to see his closest friend doing the same.

"Mingi," he shrieks in surprise.

"You could've told me you were using the shortcut too!"

"How could I know?!" Mingi wails. It takes a matter of time for Yunho to stand up and drag the younger man before they continued dashing towards their destination.

Alas they arrived with sweating bodies and worn out legs, wobbling their way up the low hill until they can see their warehouse in view. But nothing was there. Nothing but burnt ruins, ashes and huge sparks of fire. Firefighters were present, having arrived first before the two, using hoses of water to kill the fires and embers buried on the burnt materials. Yunho gawks whilst Mingi remains speechless.

"Shit," the older male curses. "I have to get the blueprint."

Mingi grabs his sleeve in time, "I'll go with you!"

"Stay here and watch over the warehouse!" Yunho yells, yanking his arm off Mingi's trembling grip.

As he was about to go and back to the city to get their blueprint from the city hall, Yunho's ears perked up at the sound of leaves rustling on the ground. He turns around to see anyone, but to his luck, he was too late. One thing he saw for sure was a hooded shadow that seemed to have vamoosed away from the burnt warehouse.

 

 

 

 

 

_ 'If you don't want to experience painful deaths from this apocalypse, you have to get killed early!' _

That was the first thing Seonghwa saw taped on an electricity post by the moment he makes his way out of the foggy streets near the city jail. He sighs. It's another propaganda manipulating the minds of many people. Another way to boost the highlights of a dystopian era.

He leans against the post, his lungs puffing for air every second. He has successfully bailed Wooyoung out of jail. Wooyoung can never see them again, but at what cost? One thing Seonghwa never wants to see again is the physical quarrel between his friends. But even a friend is after him, maybe sooner or later. His heart pummeled up in fear. Looking up the cloudy skies that held no signs of sun or rain, he shut his eyes for a second before heading off.

He goes home like nothing happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's boutta go down oml


	9. Bleeding Teeth and Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho figures Seonghwa is not too meticulous as he thinks he is.

Everything happened in a spur of the moment. While Yunho left to get the blueprint of their house, Mingi stayed on the crime scene. Seonghwa contacted Yunho he'll come home after bailing Wooyoung out of jail and shopping in the market. At the same time, Hongjoong showed up drunk with Mingi only noticing. Police officers came earlier than expected, but what they didn't see coming was their manager being arrested.

"Hongjoong is what?!" Yunho screeches over the phone, still in line with Mingi. "H-How could they arrest someone so quickly–"

" _ He had blunts and a lighter with him, _ " says Mingi. Judging from his tone, Yunho is induced Mingi believes their manager is the culprit. Yunho shrugs it off.

"Tell the police I'll investigate this case."

" _ Yunho hyung, it's already clear from his well-being he'd burn our home down _ !"

"You don't know how things work," Yunho deadpans. "You believe only on what is laid out in front of you without overviewing the background."

" _ What is there to overview _ ?" Mingi questions. " _ Hongjoong hyung showed up from the woods. He could've hidden there before he showed up to me when the firefighters were already there. He showed up to mask himself as a culprit to pretend he came to the scene before me so he wouldn't appear as a culprit– _ "

"I mean you're right," Yunho interrupts, starting to get impatient of trying to persuade the younger man. "You could possibly be right. But arson cases like these needs extra recapitulation to find the real culprit–"

" _ Hyung _ ," Mingi presses. " _ Hongjoong hyung is the real culprit. What else are you trying to imply _ ?"

"I'm implying–"

A boisterous noise came from the other line, causing Yunho to reel back from the ear-shattering noise. For sure it wasn't Mingi for the sound seemed a bit distant. Faint kicks and yells followed after. Yunho listens closely.

_ "WHY WOULD I BURN DOWN MY OWN HOME?" _

Mingi answered the voice, " _ you're a potential murderer." _

_ "No– Mingi, listen– I protected you. I gave you shelter. Seonghwa and I took you in to our haven so you could escape your abusive father–" _

_ "That doesn't justify what you've done to our haven." _

Yunho froze. Mingi really answered back like that to someone older than him. Scraping metal clanging against each other, Yunho leans closer to his phone to analyze the sounds. Seems like Hongjoong is being dragged to a cell, considering the lapsing steps of his squeaky shoes.

_ "HOW CAN YOU ARREST SOMEONE WHEN YOU HAVE NO EVIDENCE?!" _

_ "HOW CAN YOU DEFEND YOURSELF WHEN YOU HAVE NO EVIDENCE?!" _

Silence. Yunho thought for a second Mingi had ended the call, only when his penetrating, deep voice rang once more.

_ "I'm sorry, Hongjoong hyung." _

That was the last thing Yunho hears from Mingi before he presses a particular button and ends the call. With Hongjoong in jail, Mingi convinced he's the culprit whilst Yunho thinks the other way, Yunho stood before the city hall, the blueprint now in hand. Hongjoong will never be responsible for this arson case. That is Yunho's belief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yunho huffs and leans back to his creaky chair, tossing his hand-drawn doodles as per investigation into his desk. He groans, yet he doesn't give up.

"Hongjoong hyung was drinking alone during noontime," he mutters to himself. "Noontime... Around the same time the rest of us were out, Mingi to his mother and I to San and Jongho, Yeosang nowhere..."

No one could be present inside the house. All of them were out. Even Seonghwa was, out to fetch Hongjoong. Yunho halts.

"Fetch Hongjoong hyung?!" he whisper-yells to himself.

Earlier this afternoon, he did interrogate the bar owner. Hongjoong arrived there earlier during noontime, yet they have no evidence of Seonghwa walking into the bar. They have no evidence. Nothing at all, for the bar owner was as old as an aged turtle with short-term memory and neither does the bar have surveillance cameras.

"The bar sounds like a nice place to use for crimes," Yunho comments, his voice barely audible. Hongjoong never came home. The shadow. The shadow he saw that time, he can still recall the figure. He can recall, yet he doesn't know whose body among them fits the boy frame the most.

Yunho recollects their whereabouts. He himself and Mingi were of course an exception, as they were only witnesses to the arson case. Hongjoong is the assumed suspect in jail. Wooyoung, San and Jongho are confined, hence they aren't part of the case. Yeosang is nowhere to be found, and Seonghwa came home shortly after bailing Wooyoung out of jail. He can't interrogate Seonghwa at the moment, considering the blonde man is asleep in the kitchen. What bothers Yunho the most is Seonghwa's intention all along – did he leave to fetch Hongjoong as he said so himself or did he leave to bail Wooyoung before going to the market?

If Yunho was to analyze the suspects' mental health, he'd do it one by one. Hongjoong was never mentally unstable, just a simple manager of company business. Yunho doesn't know any more of him whatsoever. But he was drunk at that time, so he could've burnt the house in tipsiness. The cops suspected him just because of blunts and a lighter hidden in his pockets. Yunho grouses. He's a smoker, and by being a mere smoker doesn't mean he has the intention of committing an arson crime. If Mingi presumed he was hiding in the woods, then he could've been the shadow he caught a glimpse of.

Yunho shakes his head. Think about it – the figure is tall. Hence, it's definitely not Hongjoong, and he wasn't hiding in the woods whatsoever.

Yunho did check footage around the city to see where Yeosang could've hurtled off to. For all he knows, Yeosang ran to the north cemetery and never came back. Wooyoung couldn't possibly the one responsible for this arson case; heck, Yunho is sure Wooyoung got out of jail when their warehouse is already ruined into ashes. All that was left was Seonghwa.

Yunho blenches backwards.

Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was supposed to go to the market after fetching Hongjoong. He was supposed to cook dinner. Yunho is slowly starting to realize something is definitely off. The way Seonghwa ushered them to leave one by one... Telling Yunho to visit San and Jongho... He did remind Seonghwa to not burn the house down.

_ That's it! Seonghwa could've been the one responsible for this arson case _ ! Yunho hysterically slams his desk as if to cause an uproar, just not loud enough to wake the other people in the house.

Yunho's heart sank to his feet. Seonghwa's past was never that of a pleasant experience.

 

 

 

 

 

Jongho hurls backwards for safety, a vicious San sprinting violently towards him. Jongho hides behind a wheeled table consisting syringes and other experimental tools to protect himself from the man with IED. Jongho almost knocks the table when San hurled as if he was going to bite his head off. Jongho grits his teeth to run away from the enraged male only to have himself driven in the corner. San spoke first.

"I told you to help me."

"I-I said I'll help you–" Dread clamped his throat. "I promised I'll get you out of here–"

"And yet we're stuck here."

Trapped to the corner, Jongho discerns a streak of blue light gushing past San from behind. He blinks in confusion only to see that the blue light had turned into a blend of rose quartz and bright magenta. He blinks again, this time a shade of green, and again, and it's suddenly a mix of gold and brown. He blinks for the last time and stay stills, perceiving the flare of red illuminating the whole room.

On the other hand, San seemed nonchalant as if the vibrant hues weren't interchanging around him. Jongho was too bothered by the reversing tones of random color playing tricks on his vision that he didn't see San pulling out a rasp knife tucked to his waist by the garter of his white hospital pajamas.

Jongho blinks again. This time, the flare of red light didn't change nor disappeared. This time, he actually catches a glimpse of San's reckless motions, about to jab Jongho in the chest with his weapon. Everything occurred in a slow motion, Jongho's life flashing before his eyes. Once San kills him, he'll die. Once he dies, humanity's hope will disintegrate. No more immune. A country meeting its dead end. A broken world in shambles. San heavily breathes, swinging the knife across Jongho's chest.

A scream resonated throughout the room.

  
  
  
  
  


Seonghwa jolts awake from his position, almost knocking a glass of water near the edge of the table. He looks around and realizes he'd been sleeping in the kitchen seated on the tiny dining table, the kitchen being one of the only two parts of the house left standing still and unburnt. He brushes his hair backwards in distress.

Seonghwa hitched his breath. Did he foresee San and Jongho's mental situation?

He shook his head in denial, trying to not think about the negative. Ever since the downfall of their home, Seonghwa himself was never healthy all the time. Ever since then, he'd become a drug addict and indulged five to ten doses of his sleeping pills only to worsen his insomnia. He'd actually fallen asleep in the most uncomfortable way ever for once this time.

He ogles the lighter abandoned at the center of the table. The urge to cause an uproar grew inside Seonghwa, causing him to shut his eyes in anguish and perch in his seat. Thinking of their burnt home sent him to utmost grief like the others, the agitation clogging his lungs' passageway for air. Seonghwa repetitively took breaths every second, heaving, hitching and panting in a cycle. Staring at the tenebrous walls he could barely see in the dark, he envisions the continuous footsteps of children running outside their neighboring houses. Their childish giggles. Their desire to grow up together and explore the world. The urge yearning to get out of their houses at night without their parents knowing. The screams of their neighbors. The whistles of fire. The death of his friend.

The death of his dearest friend.

"Good evening," a voice comes from behind him. "Knew you'd sleep here. Thank god I found you."

Seonghwa didn't answer, recognizing the tall man even in the midst of darkness. He cowers in scepticism, considering the man standing in front of him hated his guts. Always.

"I've closed the case so I'm quite proud of myself," says Yunho, eyeing the lighter on the table laid out in front of the insomniac male. "What did I tell you not to do?"

"Burn the house down."

"And what did you do?"

"Made you dinner."

"And burned the house down," Yunho taps his foot impatiently and places his hands on his hips. "Therefore, Hongjoong hyung doesn't deserve to be in jail."

 

 

 

 

 

Alone in his cell, his stomach grumbles at the sole emptiness. It's true he hasn't eaten anything yet for the past hours, the last thing he consumed being a few bottles of fancy wine. It's four in the morning, his cell so damn dark he couldn't see anything, nothing shining through the small window of bars. He could barely make out a rat scurrying to a rat hole in the corner, but thanks to its brisk whoosh Hongjoong was able to sense its presence through the vague noise. With his fast reflexes, he hops out of his spot and blindly grabs the rat by its tail.

"Caught you," he mumbled as the rat flails from his grip. Hongjoong seizes its tail, still not letting go of the tiny animal. He reaches out for something in the corner which he could barely distinguish as a screwdriver, a tool that could've fallen out of his pocket a while ago. He torments the rat with it, gagging sounds echoing throughout his cell. He positions the bleeding rat into his abandoned bowl of soup. The rat's blood mixes in with the soup's content as Hongjoong remains unfazed at the gooey liquid.

"What's going on in there?"

Hongjoong swiftly hides the lifeless rat on the corner before a flashlight alters to him beyond the bars. It's a police officer. Hongjoong's hope grew inside him.

"Yo arsonist. Having a great night?" The police inquires, sighing. "I'm kinda hungry."

"You're hungry?" Hongjoong grapples the bowl of soup. "Accept this. I don't need it."

"Oh! It's our soup. It's actually good." The police says, clasping the tiny bowl as he brings it out of Hongjoong's cell through the narrow bars. He stirs the soup with the spoon, clueless that Hongjoong had a trick under his sleeve all along. "Why don't you want it?"

"No appetite, sorry."

The police officer didn't answer, though he did understand what the suspect said. He takes a savory sip of the soup with a spoon, dramatically gasping at the 'aroma' before it hits his tongue. The gruesome mixture burns his taste buds, the substance congesting his clogged throat. It takes a minute for him to collapse on the floor due to the toxicant. When he does, Hongjoong outstretches his hand past the bars and grabs the poisoned officer close by the sleeve. The key hung from his pocket is close, so close that Hongjoong only reclines his body before he's able to grasp the keyring and detach it from the officer's belt.

Key now on his hand, he fumbles with the lock of his cell to free himself. After this, he'll find the real culprit. After this, he'll find the others. Because for all of these times, he always knew who for sure would have the objective to burn down their only home as a family. There was only one among them who'd do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gotta promote and educate y'all (literally why I had Jongho act as an ES student in this fic so you can have an overview of what's happening in your only habitat aka the Earth):
> 
> \- stop tossing your garbages around and recycle stuffs that can still be used you mf  
> \- don't take showers unless it's necessary (water interruptions are common in my country so y'all better save water wherever you are >:(!!)  
> \- turn off your lights even if you're reading this at 3am and save energy bitch a ghost might get you but at least you have contributions in maintaining the planet's health  
> \- stop!! killing!! bees!! for God's sake if dumbasses don't stop killing bees I guess we'll have to go through the same apocalypse the boys are going through in this fic  
> \- use metal straws and recyclable bags instead of plastic!! I'm pretty sure you're reminded of this in every year of both your primary and middle school times dude it's not that hard  
> \- someone in Pinterest said there will be more plastic than fish in the oceans by the time it's year 2050 and instead of backlasing whoever said that for their negativity, we have to take action now and prevent that from happening  
> \- !!! there are alternatives for oil and gas BUT there are no alternatives for water. Keep that in mind  
> \- just be eco-friendly. It's not like you're taking an entrance exam to be admitted to your country's top 1 university ;;;;  
> \- stay away from racists and homophobes  
> \- live a happy life
> 
> ♡


	10. Ill-fated Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with someone you never wanted to meet again is like an unescapable deal with Satan. Mingi becomes reckless and Jongho stays oblivious.

The first thing Wooyoung does after being bailed out of jail is run away.

He got Seonghwa's permission as always. The latter him the freedom to be away on his own as long as it fulfills his satisfaction. Wooyoung is sure Seonghwa is well aware there are high chances they would never see each other again, yet he bidded him a goodbye with a sincere smile. Seonghwa has always been a loving brother-figure to them, and it physically pains him to walk away from him in the middle of the streets and set a destinationless journey on his own. By the end of the day, there was nothing much to do before the apocalypse strikes.

Wooyoung wends his way through the murky streets as the sun rises early in the calls of dawn. He had nowhere to go. He could stay at the church and live there till death, but he was too tired to walk all the way to the nearest church. He tilts his head up after sensing a presence, seeing a masked figure in front of him.

"Hey Wooyoung!" The stranger greets with a mirthful gesture. "It's me! Your identity theft."

Wooyoung frowns. He observes the stranger he just encountered from head to toe. His get-up is questionable as hell – white shirt splattered with dried blood, pair of shoes looking like they've been dipped in mud for days, chains hung from the hooks of his wrinkled pants and a mask so spooky Wooyoung still dared to look at the stranger directly in the eyes. He just wanted to go to the church and repent for his sins, and yet here he is, confronted by his identity theft like an old friend.

"I vowed to follow the ten commandments. I vowed to follow God," Wooyoung grouses. "And yet you're standing there making me want to break his sixth commandment."

The stranger chuckles, "you know why God placed that stupid commandment as sixth? Because he was and remains to this day scared of being against Satan."

"Ugh," Wooyoung groans. "I'm tired. Don't stress me out."

"I'll strip you to your downfall," assures the stranger with mischief in his tone. "Let's see. 111 times 6?"

"666."

"Correct! Amazing! You did it! And now you're invited to hell as a special guest!"

Wooyoung's eyes shot up in paralayzed shock. Why on earth did he do that? He catches a glimpse of his identity theft's mischievous expression behind his mask. Oh no. He's done for.

"A simple math question won't stop me from worshipping God," retorts Wooyoung. "And so shall thou build your cult without dragging innocent lives."

"Hmm, but I have doubts you're innocent," the stranger cackles, his laugh muffled by the mask. "You were never innocent, Wooyoung. I know because I was a victim of your reckless doings."

"Reckless–" Wooyoung wheezes. "Very funny. I've never hurt someone in the past. Whoever you are, whether you're an acquaintance from my past or my long lost cousin, you don't have to mess up my life for the second time, especially not now when I'm trying to live to the fullest."

"Sheez, have you ever heard from the news that it would be less painful to die now than die from the extreme climate change or did you really spent a long time in jail?" The unknown man clicks his tongue. "And mind you honey, you've ruined my life way worse than I could ruin yours."

Wooyoung swore he saw the exasperation in the death glare of the stranger, who really claimed he knows Wooyoung from the past through his arguments. "Just one goddamn question. Who are you?"

"Wonders will never cease."

The stranger removes his mask. He wore a sinister grin. When the flickering streetlight hits his face, Wooyoung can't help but gasp. He freezes in surprise from the revelation. Wonders never cease.

"Remember me?"

Wooyoung stopped dead in tracks. To say he's dumb struck is an understatement. Lo and behold, his former classmate in highschool stood before him in a questionable outfit.

"Yeonjun," he gapes. "Where have you been?"

"Afflicted in the pits of hell," Yeonjun taps his foot impatiently. "Been feeling like that ever since you left me, betrayed me and disappeared."

"Listen Yeonjun, I had a life to deal with–"

"A life spent in a warehouse," Yeonjun finishes for him. "You switched my test paper with yours so you could pass the final exam because you wanted to finish as much as possible, graduate and be done with high school. You didn't study. You used me. You graduated without leaving me a sorry, with me sent back to the previous level because of a failing grade I'm not responsible for."

Wooyoung widens his eyes. Everything Yeonjun said was true. It always has been. Wooyoung is a sinner. He is a sinner and he wants to repent for his sins. Beg for forgiveness, he wishes he could. Yeonjun watches the desolation embellishing his features.

"Maybe if you said a simple sorry then I would've let you go."

Wooyoun internally sighs in relief. Maybe Yeonjun wasn't so bad after all, even when he put him into jail and suffer through.

"I'm sorry, Yeonjun. I truly am."

"But you were too late."

His heart sank to his feet.

 

 

 

 

 

Hands hovered over his trembling body as he sheathed himself underneath the duvets. However, even the duvets were yanked away from him and his naked body full of scars and marks came into view. His head hurts. He solely can't believe he's about to crumble because of his father's fucked up mind. Sold off to his friends as a rape slave, only to be abused each time he refuses with tears.

A man clamped his mouth shut as he choked on air. His heart raced faster than before as if his chest would burst at that moment. He wants to escape. He reached out his hands desperately for help, but instead got pinned down to the bed harshly. He tries to scream for someone to help him escape and run away. He can make out a sinister grin in the dark leaning closer and closer to his face, so he shuts his eyes closed in fear. Several hands of the unclean touched his skin, from his limbs to his chest, to his thighs and finally to his–

 

 

Mingi jerks back awake in a cold sweat. There it goes again. His post-traumatic mind returned with its despicable antics.

One way to forget his worst dreams is to kill his boredom. And by that, we mean trying out something new, at least in Mingi's case. He stood up from the concrete floor (he fell off the sofa while asleep. A very Mingi thing to do) and saunters to the living room. To say he doesn't know one of Hongjoong's secrets would be a lie. He always knew the elder male hid his laptop under the couch or on top of the non-functioning refrigerator. Mingi found it on the latter.

Hongjoong's pin is simply his birthdate, so Mingi didn't waste time thinking about it and typed it right away. He taps on the default browser and clicks on a website he shouldn't be clicking. Mingi has no fear. He isn't afraid of anything, and logging into Dark Web wouldn't hurt.

Mingi hates to admit it, but the edgy features and digital design of the website were spine-tingling. A few people are doing live streams, solo and group lives alike, but Mingi has no interest in them whatsoever. He clicks immediately on a category that randomly gives him a challenge, a challenge he'll risk everything for. Even if a thousand dollar gets wired to his bank account, Mingi just wants to try out something he never tried before. His urge to check new things out is real, especially now when the planet is about to be wiped out and perish.

A sentence popped on the center of the screen. It's the challenge. As much as it sounds harrowing, Mingi isn't a coward for once this time. He shuts the laptop closed and leaves lying on the couch before heading to the kitchen with no hesitation.

There on the dining table is a bowl of soup he's eager to eat. Nothing was on the table but the soup as far as Mingi could recognize in the middle of the darkness, grabbing the nearest chair to start eating and snatch the spoon. It looks disgustingly absurd, the pink stew steaming, bubbling like a pig's blood. It won't hurt to try. It won't hurt Mingi to try and taste it.

It's a soup that came from nowhere, a soup of mystery. Mingi inhales the raw odor, took one sip of it and slurps a spoonful. The flesh liquid made it way through his throat, burning like an alcohol's effect. Gulping, Mingi hums, "it's actually good."

Mingi owes whoever brought it to the kitchen, for it satisfies his taste buds like a professional chef's deluxe collation. He sips more and more of the soup until his arm reaches its limit. He's tired. He feels dizzy. Maybe he hasn't gotten any sleep these days. Maybe he's just worn out. Whatever the reason could be, Mingi could do nothing about it and accept the consequence; that is to fall into slumber. Eyes shut, his numb hand hung off the edge of the table as his consciousness comes to a crash and eventually to a halt.

With Mingi's responsiveness ceased of activity, he fails to hear the subdued sound of approaching footsteps. The person comes closer cautiously, only to gasp when he saw Mingi passed out on the kitchen table.

"Mingi?"

Yeosang froze in terror.

"What on Earth... W-Why are you eating a baby's soup?"

The disturbing images from his detrimental past flash behind his eyelids as they shouldn't be. Yeosang blinks at his unwanted memories, wishing nothing for them but to begone, only to clutch the part of his head metaphorically on fire.

Yeosang only wished the best for Mingi. He never wanted Mingi to be like him, ever, not when he is an anthropophagus himself.

Aroused with anger, He grips the bowl and throws it to the wall. The ceramic pieces lay shattered on the floor drenched with the leftover soup. He shot up and looks out the window– there was a face.

Yeosang bolts out of the dining room, stomping boisterously so he could catch up to the mascot. By the time he was out of the warehouse, he caught a glimpse of the hairy mascot, fangs sticking out and facial features so ugly he could puke right there on the spot. The figure ran away from him in fear, but who is Yeosang to go for the person who'd initiatively kill a friend of his? No one but Yeosang won't let anyone get away after attempting a murder.

All the way through zigzagged routes and haphazard shortcuts they raced. Yeosang was barely in his right mind that he didn't pay heed to the bruises on his knees after countless trippings over branches, pavements, and a manhole. Neither did he to the bleeding gashes on his arm after he ran through trimmed electricity posts and prickles of thorns incising his bare ankles. He bumped his head into a parked truck too but as if he'd care; all that matters for now is he get to chase the mascot and force him to take back his immoral act.

Low in iron, he stops dead in his tracks as he blinks through misty sight. Ironically enough, his vision cleared by the time he'd lost sight of the mascot. He's too distracted he didn't even check his surroundings. Only when he spotted an animalistic head poking out of a tree, Yeosang felt his heart burn in madness.

 

He's pissed.

 

He didn't need to be taunted like that. Vexed like a spider's poison, Yeosang slides through the mud and whizzes past the wind. The mascot grinned at him like Lucifer's son and ran away once more.

What Yeosang didn't know was he's in a cemetery, the one Mingi used to visit. Completely unaware, he didn't see the massive hole on the ground either, a hole accompanied with a tombstone. As if gravity has defied him, Yeosang gasps upon falling onto the hole after tripping on air. The last thing he sees is the jeer on the mascot's face that plunged to his view out of nowhere, his heart leaping from the jumpscare. Yeosang tried to get out of the human-sized hole, only to realize his feet he once bathed in a puddle of mud were stuck in the moist soil, before the tombstone fell over him and slammed him securely into tenebrosity.

That tombstone being a tombstone carved neatly with Jongho's full name in Hangul and birthdate.

 

 

 

 

 

When Mingi woke up, the first thing he sees is the figure on the door. His vision was hazy for a moment, so he squints to see the person. It was Yunho who spoke first and Mingi could tell he's in a hurry.

"Have you seen Seonghwa?"

"No?" Mingi looks down to Yunho's lower part, frowning when he discerns something he shouldn't be seeing. "Yunho hyung, why do you have a saw?"

"Uh oh, this is nothing, just thought it would be a lot handier than a mallet."

"Handier? You're on crack."

"Nah." Yunho glances at the hallway. "I gotta go. Watch over the house, okay?"

Yunho's hasty steps rang throughout their hollowed out hallway. He can hear the faint, rusty click of the doorknob all the way from the kitchen. Just processing the sound was nerve-racking as Yunho's footsteps gradually died out. The next thing he knows, he was left alone with no one to accompany him.

 

 

 

 

 

On a Wednesday morning, Jongho doesn't move a muscle in his bed. Today is the day he'll stay in the laboratory for hours, asleep to nullity, whilst they collect some amount of his blood and duplicate them. Today is the day he comes out as humanity's hope. He has been proven to be healthy contrary to what he believes: he's starting to obtain a fucked up mind.

He stares at the clock on his wall. Time ticks and ticks, faster than every beat of his heart. As seconds passed by, the more he grew anxious. He's frightened not because _what if I'm not helpful enough?_ Instead, the numbers on the clock bothers him the most.

"What a colorful clock," he mutters to himself. "Gray zero, green four and a purple eight... Wow."

Jongho sighs. It really did seem colorful, the '5' a dirty yellow and even the '6' is golden orange. The rest were colored too, adorning the white clock and black hands that blended well with the ivory walls.

He spent his hours bound to bed, eyeing the clock for most of the time as the hands moved. Jongho didn't do anything but breathe, roll around his bed and imagined some joyful jouskas in his head that he didn't even take note of time passing by. To him, it felt like only a minute passed until he was called by Yuchan and escorted by Sehyoon to the laboratory.

And here he is, fastened to a laboratory bed, a bed more advanced than his usual hospital bed that pitifully only had one pillow. While the scientists are out of his limited sight, nowhere to gather the tools and materials, Jongho didn't hear that coming. The voice he'd never expect to return and invade his mind yet again.

 

_Welcome home welcome home welcome home welcome_

 

Another scientist named Donghun caught his attention in time before the voice continues further. Donghun babbled something Jongho didn't apprehend clearly, the inhaler mask still clipped on his lower face to aid his nasal.

At this rate, he's one-hundred percent convinced the voice is the ghastly version of Seonghwa's voice. He spaces out as if it's the only thing he's best at.

_And upon eye contact, Jongho somehow felt as if he'd drown on those red pupils. They were seductive, tantalizing but in vain, and Jongho swears he won't fall for them._

 

**_"Welcome home, Jongho."_ **

 

Electrocuted with fear, Jongho jolts a bit in his position, opening his eyes wide anyhow not too obvious for any of the scientists to notice his fright. That's it. It was Seonghwa's voice all along, clawing his brain like the worst nightmare. The most accurate Jongho could think of relating to it is how he was supposed to live with them as per safety against the dystopian world.

As if on cue, he hears a melody he's not familiar with. It's not catchy, yet delicate and beguiling enough to put him in a charming trance. Musically pleasing, rhythmic and solemn it is, and Jongho feels at peace. May he have never heard of the melody anywhere, it's such a wonder as to how he can hear something tuneful at a situation like this.

A situation like this. Bound to bed, his every movements restricted, neck locked to the surface – he can't move in the slightest bit neither can he tilt his head to see anything other than the dimly lit ceiling of the laboratory, and yet he can hear the magical melody ring in his ears. The clash of metal and steel rings in the air, scientists getting ready to perform the process on Jongho and extract the special particles in his blood. The haste of the scientists doesn't stop the melody in Jongho's ears to the extent he'd fall asleep.

He fell into slumber unbeknownst to himself. A slumber of peace and isolation from reality. The reality he wished he could repudiate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to ask what your favorite chapters are so far :D + stay hydrated and start using Ecosia instead of Google or I'll break your kneecaps
> 
> self-promo:  
> [cc!! tell me anything](https://curiouscat.me/deadxxpoets)  
> [twt acc](https://twitter.com/deadxxpoets?s=09)  
> [ig spam](https://www.instagram.com/lustrousdoyoungs/)


	11. Rip Your Hearts Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intrusion to the laboratory, an altercation between friends and a cessation of two lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was delayed, I wasn't feeling well and slept ;;;;

When Jongho woke up, he was told by the scientists to stay put on the laboratory bed for longer as several test tubes of his blood were being duplicated. Yuchan stood before his bed ticking checkboxes on his clipboard, not sparing Jongho a single glance. In the meantime, Sehyoon and Donghun were active in gathering the test tubes as another scientist named Byeongkwan took over the process of duplication. Junhee watched over the monitors to ensure nothing is wrong after the immune has been unfastened from the bed yet assured to lie down further to avoid cramps. When Jongho turns to see the test tube racks carrying almost one hundred test tubes, half with red liquid and half empty, he felt as if something is wrong.

His face turned green, aghast. Not like he's nauseated or anything. His instincts are parlous, expected to be something undesirable. And yet he can't fully expect what will happen. May it be unpleasant or not, Jongho's soon to know if it benefits him or brings him misfortune. One thing he's sure of is its advantage to ruin the scientists' efforts.

The feeling that bled in his heart was the unbearable pain of wanting to throw a fit, escape from this living hell and find a friend. A friend – he does have a friend in the same place as he is in now, so close yet so far. Jongho was born not to have a life he wished for, but a future in shambles because he was nothing but a mere tool, his sake treasured as humanity's hope.

It's always about humanity's hope. How could there be hope beneath a sky full of dread and clouds dark as evil's soul? Jongho sighs. He can feel it coming. He's about to gulp a chunk of his saliva. Sehyoon frantically yells at Byeongkwan's clumsiness. It's coming. Donghun is ushering them to go faster. Jongho's heartbeat is palpitating rapidly as shown on the heart rate monitor, Junhee too occupied in scolding Byeongkwan to even notice his condition. Jongho breaths. One, two, and then–

 

The door burst open. As soon as a person stepped in, eyebrows were raised in bafflement. Jongho didn't need to look. He already knew who it was.

"Where's that guy?"

"Sir–" Yuchan panicks. "This is restricted to professionals only– How'd you access here–"

"Where. Is. That. Man."

"Who are you?" Donghun asks. "And what are you talking about?"

"That psychiatrist," San absentmindedly says. "He told me lies. He told me I'll get out of here once I eat my cereal, told me I'll escape once I smile– and yet–"

"Sorry to break it to you, but we don't even know who your psychiatrist is," Junhee intervenes. "We're currently doing an important experiment at the moment to save South Korea so I advise you get out. Now."

Only San didn't listen. His anger got the best of him, and Jongho, who wasn't yet spotted by San near the corner, could only watch the horrifying scene unfold before him.

As if the devil was unlatched from the depths of San's being, this is the first time Jongho saw him do something rash in front of his eyes. It's his first time to see San not bound to a wheelchair in a while too. He thrashes around the laboratory, recklessly kicking the test tube racks. He wasn't hesitating. He wasn't thinking right. And yet he sabotaged the duplicates of Jongho's blood and wiped all the racks off the trays, causing some of them to crash to the floor and shatter into irreparable pieces.

Everything was quick to happen. The scientists hid behind beds, rollers and in the corner from the mental patient's anger that they didn't even notice San snatch some of the samples with caps for himself. He bolts out the laboratory, clumsily colliding head-first to the door before he regains his composure and disappears out of the scientists' view.

Jongho processes the situation faster than lightning. Thinking he needs not to save humanity anymore, he gives the scientists one last hideous glance. He can't stay here longer as a trapped specimen for scientific research and answer the prayers of people nearing the edge of poverty. He can't do it anymore. Sehyoon scrambles to his feet to grab Jongho by the arms from behind. However, Jongho was quicker. He runs out of the laboratory and slams the steel door on Sehyoon's face. The scientist winces at his injured nose.

"Fuck!" Yuchan accidentally curses. "Wait– I spoke without thinking–"

"They've escaped," Byeongkwan deadpans, rubbing the bruised spot on his neck. "What are we gonna do?!"

"Damn it!" Junhee angrily exclaims. "Call the interns and cops! We did hold a research on the second immune in this country! I know he's hiding out there somewhere. Get their dogs and hunt him as our back up!"

 

 

 

 

 

Seonghwa dashes out of the warehouse with Yunho hot on his tail. He endures the pain on his injured arm, bleeding due to the deep cuts caused by Yunho's saw, scurrying past the woods, to the city and into a narrow alleyway. He hides behind a trash bin and heavily pants to catch up to his breath. Yunho wouldn't find him there. Hopefully.

The sky sunless as ever, Seonghwa felt the pangs of anguish strike his head. He wished he had never taken any of his medicines and overdose on them. He's unknowingly tearing himself apart one by one. It was dead silent in the alley, so silent Seonghwa would mistake the place as an abyss. Until it wasn't silent for once. He hears the faint cries of a baby from a distance.

He rubs his sweating forehead. Who would abandon their child in a place like this?

Then again, it's dystopian era, almost everybody is manipulated by illegal propaganda and corrupted with toxicity. Seonghwa worriedly approaches the sound, wincing at his wounded arm. He peeks past the alleyway, turning his head sideways to check first if Yunho is there then shifts his look to see a baby. There was none.

But the cries were getting louder. Louder as he approached, and at the same time as he froze, it stopped. He looks around once more, heart thrumming. There was no baby whatsoever, and even if he tried to see through the murky alley, there was no child at all. Absolutely none. Seonghwa whips his head behind him.

A body trapped him from behind, hands covering his eyes as if he was a hostage. His heart leapt but at times like this, Seonghwa would always know what to do. He elbows the stranger's stomach and grasps his hands covering his sight, twisting the man's arms in the process. Seonghwa hopped backwards to avoid further attacks, standing still to take time recognizing the potential murderer. Seonghwa sees him holding his phone showing a recorder, an audio of the baby's cries that succeeded in coaxing him.

"It's been a while," says the stranger. Seonghwa narrows his eyebrows at the familiar voice. "I will only ask one thing. Why did you betray me, Hwa?"

"When did I do that?" Seonghwa questions, feigning innocence.

"You burned the house and had me in jail. What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, Joong. I had to burn the house because–"

"Because what?"

"I needed to burn down our memories. During the past days, we've been nothing but dogs biting each other."

"But you didn't have to do that!" Hongjoong exclaims. "It always has been home to all of us. You being the eldest doesn't mean you have the right to do what you want. It was the only shelter we could live in. And yet... You burned it down."

"I know what I did is wrong," says Seonghwa. "But it was to erase our past. That warehouse is a living hell. Wooyoung and Yeosang met each other there and could've started another fight. Yunho is chasing me at the moment because he solely wants to murder me. And I'm assuming you want to kill me too."

"Exactly," Hongjoong hisses. "I trusted you, Hwa. I told you I'm on your side, but it doesn't seem like that anymore."

"Fine by me. I'm pretty sure everyone hates me anyway."

Hongjoong glares at his nonchalance. "Then I'll enlighten you."

"Try me."

Hongjoong charged towards him, wielding an adz he picked up somewhere. He swings it quite skillfully, but Seonghwa dodges lightly  even with a wounded arm, relying on his martial arts combat skills since he's unarmed.

"The pyromania in you just awakened, didn't it?" Hongjoong asks in between their brawl.

"No," Seonghwa shakes his head, unleashing a push kick. Hongjoong staggers back. "I never liked fire."

"And yet you burned the warehouse."

Seonghwa silences. Hongjoong hooks his neck with the adz as an attempt to immobilize him, but Seonghwa have strong, muscular legs. He balances himself against the floor without moving his head, for one wrong move and Hongjoong will behead him with a mere carpentry tool. Gaining force in his legs, he spins his ankles expertly and lands his feet on Hongjoong's shoulder, causing the younger male to lower down the adz. Seonghwa uses his shoulder as a base for him to smoothly reel upwards without his neck being injured by adz, and with his weight, he chokes Hongjoong by the neck and pinned him down to the ground.

Hongjoong hates to admit it, but Seonghwa is incredibly strong. Seonghwa has a strategic mind and brawny limbs suited for violent fights.

"Truth be told, all of us has a disastrous past," Seonghwa begins. "Didn't you have one too? Parents rejecting your passion to be a musician, urging you to build a business."

"And you had your ex die in a village fire," Hongjoong shots back. At this rate they are going to fight by their past. "You failed to protect her. You kept thinking about it every night and that's why you developed insomnia."

"You killed your parents after they told you music is useless."

"You were abused by your ex's aunt blaming you for her death–"

"You ran away from home because of your parent's death–"

"You caused the village fire." Hongjoong blurts, heaving. "You caused the fire trying to play with an explosive."

Seonghwa looks at him in disbelief. "You–"

"You killed your ex," he presses. "You murdered her with fire."

"It was never intentional–" Seonghwa halts. He clenches his teeth, provoked, choking Hongjoong even harder.

It seems like Seonghwa had forgotten Hongjoong's adz. Hongjoong outstretches his hand on the ground to seize the tool, gasping for air as Seonghwa torments his neck in a chokehold. He pulls the adz closer with his small fingers, the bones in his hands aching from being stretched, and from above, he blindly smacks Seonghwa's head with the pin. He was originally aiming to cut Seonghwa's head open with the blade but the clean edge of the pin works too. Seonghwa reels backwards, clasping his throbbing head in discomfort. As soon as Seonghwa removes his weakened arms from Hongjoong's neck, the latter knee kicks him in the face as his nose breaks. Seonghwa puffs for air, barely opening his eyes. Hongjoong pummels him on the shoulders and decks him to the ground.

Seonghwa laid on the ground with barely any strength left in him. Hongjoong hooks his neck with the adz this time, the blade pricked to the ground. Seonghwa looks at him with heavy eyes.

"Fine. You beat me."

Hongjoong smirks at Seonghwa's surrender, the blood from his head seeping through his hair and past his forehead. His closest friend among their family lies defeated on the ground. Mixed feelings bled through his chest. He's unsure how to feel, now that he stood triumphantly before Seonghwa's downfall. Even with his friend's loss to him, Hongjoong is still uncertain whether it was the right thing to do or not.

"I lost," Seonghwa sighs. "You know exactly how I want to die."

Hongjoong nods. He finds a half-filled tank of oil dumped in the alleyway. Lifting the tank up, he stains Seonghwa's clothes and hair, the nasty odor of oil dissolving into the atmosphere. Seonghwa didn't care. His eyes shut, he feels Hongjoong fumbling through his numerous pockets to unearth his signature lighter along with his handkerchief. Hongjoong pours oil on the fabric before burning the corner with the lighter and tosses it onto Seonghwa.

Knowing he won't die by just simply ignited, Hongjoong had no choice but to hit him on the chest. Gasping, crimson red blossomed through his shirt as Hongjoong pulled out the adz's blade. The fire gradually spread throughout his clothes and his body. Like bidding farewell, Hongjoong takes one last glance at Seonghwa, showing a sign of remorse. And yet Seonghwa never opened his eyes, looked back at Hongjoong and said goodbye.

The last thing Hongjoong sees on his friend before running away is the wry smile plastered on his blazing face.

 

 

 

 

 

The claws of guilt never faded away from his uncleansed soul.

Hongjoong ran away. He ran away as if there's no tomorrow, to get away from his burdens only to be chased by it. The pain in his chest will never go away. It'll stay close to him in tow. And of course Hongjoong hates to admit it.

The last thing he wants to do after murdering his closest friend is continue living. As much as Seonghwa would want him to stay alive until the world's end, Hongjoong will have to do anything for himself to cease breathing.

As far as he ran away, his feet unknowingly took him to a jammed road in Gangnam. He whips head to see a car about to crash into him, the tumultuous sound of the honk beeping out loud. His life flashes before his eyes.

_He sat in the dim light, staring at piano keys, cradling the stump on his arm where his hand had once been. Maybe one of these days, he would get back to playing. He couldn’t let it end like this. He would never let it._

Hongjoong's childhood was never lively, not until he met six people who chaperoned each other under one roof they called their home. If this stupid dystopian era never happened, they could've lived an ordinary life and went outdoors to greet the sun like an old friend. They could've watched each other grow and could've grown old together. They could've travelled countless places around the world and fulfill the happiness they've been longing for their whole lifetime, and yet a mere apocalypse existed to stop their dreams from flourishing.

The thought of them makes Hongjoong smile even when he knows his heartbeat is about to terminate its process. Even when he knows his soul is going to be prised apart from his body any moment from now. Like Seonghwa, his lips tugged upwards into a grin.

A family stays close to one's hearts. Family is truly a treasure, the best one he'd discover in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! this serves as a safety warning for all of you. I saw this somewhere in Instagram and I thought you all should read it.
> 
> If you hear a crying baby from your porch or anywhere outside the house, do not open the door. You may think that it sounds like the baby would crawl to the streets and you're worried it might get run over, but whatever you do, never open the door.
> 
> Call the police and send them to your house. There are serial killers out there who has a baby's cries recorded. They use it to coax women out of their homes thinking that someone dropped off a baby.
> 
> Stay safe everyone♡ Wherever you are, crimes exist and can happen anytime. Have a great day!
> 
> \+ Hongjoong's past was from a Tumblr post by the way just in case


	12. Agony in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God can take two of the most beautiful flowers in a garden after they've been pricked with thorns. Definitely.

"Yeosang!"

Yunho yells through the void of the garden situated at the back of their burnt warehouse. The garden has never been used, though Seonghwa waters the plants from time to time and tend to them with fertilizers. But to see it withered because Seonghwa has never taken care of the plants ever since the dystopian era begun, no lie, it pains Yunho a bit like a gunshot to the heart.

"Yeosang!" He continues to shout, knowing there are little chances of the said boy appearing out of nowhere. Yunho never saw Yeosang come home during the past days ever since he left for his 'meal time'. Only Mingi could've seen him if he was awake after consuming a hideous soup. Yunho keeps looking around, his eyes shakily shifting from the cloudy skies to the endless woods and past their home burned to ruins. To say he's worried is an understatement. He can't be alone, not this time, especially when it's a season of despair for almost every living person on earth.

"Yeosang," he whispers with a weak voice, and now he starts to worry about the others. "Seonghwa? Seonghwa, Seonghwa."

He believes Hongjoong and Woooyoung are still in jail, not knowing they were dead. To him, San and Jongho are confined within white walls, white ceilings and floors with nearly nowhere to escape. Yeosang and Seonghwa are missing, there are no more hopes for Yunho to locate him even though he needed them the most. The fact he knows nothing about their recent whereabouts speak a lot – Yunho absolutely has no updates of them. He had long given up chasing after Seonghwa, unable to locate him anywhere.

"Seonghwa?" Yunho utters once more, feeling the guilt eat him up. When no one responds to his call of remorse, the compunction pulled him to the ground as he helplessly starts to cry, not giving a care anymore if the soil beneath him stains his ragged shirt. He's alone. He has no more family to accompany him with, absolutely no one. Or maybe not.

"Yunho!"

Yunho shots up to the voice, seeing Mingi lean weakly against the doorframe of their rundown warehouse. The younger man looks worse than ever, having eaten an inedible soup before Yeosang could stop him.

"Mingi," Yunho mutters. A huge wave of relief washes over him. The way Mingi looks shaggy at the moment doesn't beat the reassurance that had streamed across Yunho's heart. "Mingi! You're alive!"

Yunho doesn't scramble to his feet from the toiled ground, but he does sit up as Mingi approaches him, clutching his stomach. His clothes are ragged too, his hair so poorly styled as if he ran his fingers through it several times. Red marks adorned his forehead, probably from getting hit. Yunho stares at him in a daze, "you're alive. You're alive, oh my god."

"Yunho," Mingi pauses. "I'm being watched."

The older squints his eyes in confusion. "What?"

"We're being watched," Mingi assures, pressing his lips to give emphasis. "Can you–?"

"Why do you have two knives?" Yunho questions, glancing at the weapons Mingi is holding with a single hand.

"We're being watched. I have a quest that was given to me, but now I've failed to do it. The only thing to escape from the quest is to die. Therefore, can you kill me?"

"Mingi, what are you saying?"

If Yunho had the energy to laugh, then he would've laughed. However, the seriousness in Mingi's dull orbs just gives him more of the creeps, and it's not until Mingi tosses him one of the knives does he flinch on his spot.

"Let's just die together than experience a painful death," Mingi says straightforwardly. "Living in a dystopian world like this doesn't make sense to me anymore. It's pointless to live a life in an era like this."

If truth be told, Yunho gets Mingi's point. Mingi is right, it's pointless to live a life in such a world full of nothing but despair and dejection. Sometimes Yunho wonders, how many times did Hongjoong influence Mingi through the reality show lives and movies he watched to the extent Mingi had the guts to log in to the Deep Web. Yunho takes an exhalation and stares at Mingi through the eyes.

"Okay," He remarks. "Let's do it."

Mingi didn't need to be told twice. Yunho pulls himself and stands to his feet, now eye-to-eye with Mingi. He forcefully grips onto the knife with quivering lips. The dilemma, oh god, Yunho would be lying if he said his heart is not thrumming against his ribcage that hard. In actuality, his beating heart might burst right at that moment, too anxious to decide on his dilemma. To kill or not to kill. To kill or be killed. Yunho has no choice but to choose. The look on Mingi's face won't fade until he dies.

Yunho attacks first, hesitantly swinging his arm to stab Mingi on the chest. Mingi doesn't even budge nor change his expression as if he has been lifeless for long. He dazes at Yunho's exaggerated expression, only bobbing his head to choke on the blood that were lodged up to his throat. Before Yunho could pull back the knife, Mingi thrusts his knife to Yunho's lower abdomen, deepening the cut to strive for enough blood loss. Yunho gasps at the excruciating feeling. His heart stopped for a moment before it starts beating again, though slowly– agonizingly slow.

Yunho loses the strength to stand on his feet. He slumps down to the ground in anguish. Mingi does the same shortly after, lying down next to the other male but the opposite way as he droopily drops his arms in extreme weariness. Mingi forces his head to turn around to see Yunho's pale face, not bothered one bit when Yunho's head is upside down to his view. He still looks beautiful the other way around, but to see the colors fade away from his once vibrant expression mentally hurts Mingi in the chest.

"I'm sorry," Mingi manages to choke out despite having damaged lungs. "I had to drag you into this. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Yunho smiles at him. "We have no more purpose to live."

"Right?" Mingi chimes. "The apocalypse has done nothing but shatter the dreams of all ages."

He hates to admit it, but Mingi spoke the truth. The way the words rolled off his tongue like nothing, it physically affects him. It's as if every prolonged public speech of 'long live the world!' has been defied by the heavens all along. The world has its limits, its negativity and its capability to cause a big impact to change the lives of people and animals alike; Yunho knows that's what Mingi is trying to say. Mingi is woke, but with a life dwindling away at a slow pace. To annihilate each other was their last resort, and so that's what they did.

"Let's take a nap," Yunho heaves heavily, his heart still steadily beating. It's so slow, so fucking slow that it can stop any second from now. "We haven't slept peacefully for a while."

Mingi chuckles, "have a nice nap, Yunho hyung."

Yunho just smiles, dozing off to take one last look at the shriveled flowers of the garden surrounding them. No more flowers bloomed under the obscured sky, and so were their hopes to resume their life like a simple video game. In the midst of dried leaves rustling against the ground, heartbeats came to a miserable stop. They've heaved their last breaths as Mingi shuts his eyes. Death had fetch them, Yunho first with Mingi following close behind. Life had mercilessly released them from its bittersweet embrace. A pity.

 

 

 

 

 

Dogs bustled their way across the woods, the scent they can smell drawing nearer and nearer. The thugs followed after them though not dragging them by leashes. In fact the dogs didn't have any leashes on them as they raced to their destination.

They paused when the rows of trees came to a stop, a burnt warehouse and a few cabins coming into view. Two bodies lay lifeless on the ground, a few grasses smothered in blood.

"One of them is the second immune?" Hyunjin says. His Bloodhound breed trotted towards Yunho's corpse. "Hey, check his pulse. There's no way he could be dead."

The Bloodhound sniffs Yunho's scent, only to bark loudly a few seconds later.

"Oh no," Changbin expresses. "We failed."

"Hey, none of the scientists said the blood of a dead immune applies too, right?" Felix questions, hopes sparkling in his eyes. "Right?"

No one answered him.

"No way," Minho gawks. "At this rate we're going to be jobless."

"No, that's not it! Don't let a mere failure affect you," Seungmin says, patting their English Springer Spaniel breed. "We can't leave empty-handed."

"Let's check out their cabins. We might find something interesting," Jisung licks his lips.

Jeongin gasps sarcastically. "Your mind."

 

 

 

 

 

Hours had passed and yet Wooyoung hasn't found anyone among his friends yet. Ever since Wooyoung got into a fistfight with Yeonjun and survived, he'd been living off a poor lifestyle in the streets, relying on his mastery to rob people and steal their bulged wallets.

In fact, he'd actually beaten Yeonjun to death and left his body lying on the streets for all he cares. He doesn't need to waste time dealing with nonsense. He legitimately just wanted to live his life.

He's completely unaware it's three in the morning. He wobbles out of the bar with staggering legs, barely using the doorframe as support. He's drunk. He'd spent time blabbering with people inside the bar, socialize and victimize them for his act robbery. He trots to the nearest alleyway to hide, his ripped coat full of wallet and pouches he stole.

He is a sinner.

No doubt he'd been evil all along. However this time, he had no plans of repenting to God. He doesn't need to. Maybe God didn't exist anyway. He didn't hear their prayers. He didn't save anyone from this post-apocalypse era and continued to pluck the lives of innocent people and attach them to their devastating loss. He will not and never put a stop into the end of the world. It's Noah's Ark story all over again, but through the monotonous views of reality.

But why is Wooyoung included?

That is because he is a sinner. He refused to listen to Yeosang and tormented him. He killed a friend from highschool. He left Seonghwa and never returned to their home. He is a sinner born from ashes and to ashes he shall return.

Evoked by his own thoughts, Wooyoung maniacally tore his jewelries outlined with crosses, injuring himself in the process like a possessed demon. His necklace formed a scar on his neck, his plunked bracelets pricking his skin deeply. Even his anklets left a mark against his dermis.

He could be a demon and never an angel. He was raised to be an angel yet grew up as a demon, his natural personality.

The alleyway is eerie and spine-chilling, and the lone streetlight on the side kept flickering thanks to its lacking absorbent of electricity. Then again, it's three in the morning. What else besides a spooky environment would he not understand? Wooyoung would choose to stay quiet overtime to avoid any spirits in the dark than to disturb them.

But his body did otherwise. He fails to fight his urge to sneeze. His sneezing resonates throughout the void alleyway like a train of sound. Frightened, Wooyoung squeezes himself through a stack of hollow boxes in the dark until he hears a voice not a second later.

"Bless you."

He turns around.

"God?"

Wooyoung looks up. The last thing he sees before the streetlight fell over him is the broken moon bleeding.

 

 

 

 

 

After bolting out of the laboratory, Jongho caught San disappearing to the next hall just in time. Thanks to his built legs he was able to chase after the mental patient and catch up to him. Both of them hastened away from the basement, to the packed hallways and finally to a door they see from a distance. Only when Jongho recognized the door did his trauma come to haunt him back.

"San!" He yells. "San! No, we shouldn't go that way–"

Too late. San ripped open the door quite harshly. San stepped in the small garden of the hospital. Jongho did the same with hesitation, almost forgetting to breathe he sees the flowers and bushes he have seen before.

"What's wrong with it?" San asks. Jongho doesn't answer, panic drawn all over his face. He frantically looks around and sees a soccer ball on the corner. It's smudged and muddied with dirt and blood. Dried blood.

"What the fuck!" San stomps on his own foot, scowling. Jongho scoots over to see what he was fussing on. "What is this?! Why is there a hand grabbing my foot?!"

Jongho flinches. He grabs San by the arm, "let's escape–"

Jongho yanks San's sleeve and drags him to the corner of the garden, a vine crawling its way around San's foot. San screeched in utter madness. He hysterically kicks and kicks as Jongho trotted speedily out of the garden, hopping out of the bushes like a prodigal stunt. Their bare feet almost got tangled with the leaves and thorns, but that didn't stop them from sprinting away. As much as they look unpresentable with their smeared white pajamas and bedraggled hair, they would very much like to get away from their biggest nightmares.

"Where do we go now?!"

"The warehouse!" Jongho shouts. "Let's go there first and check if we can still see the others. I don't tolerate any outburst of idiocracy so you better calm yourself and–"

"We're too outdated!"

"Exactly why we have to go and check!"

"It's too dangerous, agents are after us–"

"Then what are we doing right now?! We have to run!"

And so run they did under the starless, pitch-black night as the chilly breeze of the evening gushes past them. It's freezing cold, worse they are only wearing a set of thin pajamas and are running around by foot like a headless chicken. As if they're bandits of the night, they race through shortcuts and stinky alleyways leading to the warehouse, not caring anymore if they stepped on thumbtacks or dog poo.

Alas they arrived at the place. San peers from a distant, puzzled when he sees blue and red flashes of light and police cars parked on the side of the streets. San and Jongho tiptoed closer to see the warehouse beyond the barricade tapes preserving a crime scene or whatever was going on in front of the house.

Only there wasn't a warehouse in sight. Only the residue of a dismantled structure stood left, and by the looks of it they could tell it had been blazed to the ground. A few cabins were left, the kitchen, a hallway and a few rooms. The second floor was no longer there. San gawps at the preposterous view.

"Our home... Burned down?"

"Let's check."

At Jongho's usher, they scamper near the area. Hiding behind the neighboring trees and blend themselves in the dark, they scoot closer to see better as the police were blocking the view from a certain angle. It's only a matter of time before San catches a glimpse of the outline on the grass drawn by chalk.

"What is that?" San gawks. "D-Did someone die here?"

"Looks like two people did," Jongho answers. "But who?"

"It can't be two of our friends, can it?"

Jongho shakes his head. "We have to go. It's not safe anymore."

"We're not safe anywhere!"

At San's outburst, Jongho winces. With his fast reflexes he immediately dragged San by the collar before the police officers direct their flashlights at them and have them questioned for trespassing a crime scene without a licensed authority. They scuttle away from the crime scene, the leaves rustling noisily under their hasty steps. They stopped dead in the middle of the streets and almost got overrun by a van driving off in full speed, much to San almost throwing a fit and chase the van angrily.

Jongho rubs his hair in distress, "San, calm down! We need to go to the police station. That's the only safe place we could head to!"

"Safe?! Cops are much more harmful than you think!"

Jongho blinks. "At least they're armed?"

"They will kill us anytime. We don't know if they side with humanity or the government."

"You're just a coward!"

"Oh dear, I used to call Seonghwa a coward back in those days–"

"Nonsense. We have to go!"

They run off again to the west, sweating so hard they're starting to smell. As if they'd care, they sprint off through parked cars and poorly illuminated pathways while trying to withstand the glacial humidity. San couldn't care less to the point he almost left Jongho tripping over a fallen log. Through empty windows of stores and manholes they sauntered fast until they spot a signboard of police station from a distance. They head quickly to that way, halting on their tracks when they heard voices through the open window.

"Keonhee, I told you to pay our electricity bills!"

"Paying off our money is pointless! The apocalypse starts tomorrow!"

"I still want to lay my hands on money and that's exactly why I'm still doing my job. Why can't you be the same?"

"Shut up Hwanwoong, I'm not money hungry."

"Aren't you tired, 'Woong? Crime rates are high nowadays."

"These cases are different from the others, so I'm intrigued."

A roll of eyes. "Yeah, because they're acquaintances of Hongjoong."

San bolts out of their hiding spot and shows himself to the cops upon hearing Hongjoong's name. "Excuse me? You're friends with Hongjoong hyung?"

"Yeah. Are you his co-workers?"

Jongho follows closely from behind to see the cops' expression. He could've sworn he saw one of them raise an eyebrow in confusion. Which police wouldn't be surprised when some random people in dirtied hospital pajamas decide to show up in the middle of their argument?

"We're close with him," San assures. "Mayhaps we can...?"

"Stay here? Sure. Your safety is guaranteed. I'm Keonhee by the way."

"Thank you so much," Jongho replies. "Do you happen to know anything about any member of the warehouse family?"

"Why yes of course," A cop named Hwanwoong says. "We'll report everything if you want to. We've closed the Seonghwa-Hongjoong case which just occurred recently."

"Seonghwa and Hongjoong?" San inquires. "Did something happen between them?"

"Take a seat," Another cop named Gunhak offers. He whips out a clipboard and brown envelope from the drawer of their executive desk. San and Jongho did as told. Hwanwoong hovers a flashlight over the submitted files.

Printed on the covers of the files were Seonghwa and Hongjoong's full names in Hangul alphabet, the script bold and formal just enough to look fitting for legal office documentation. Gunhak skims the document and further explains the crime scene.

"At 16:54 today, Park Seonghwa was found dead in a Gangnam alleyway. He died of exposure to extreme heat, burned alive intentionally. We all know who killed him," says Gunhak. In the meantime, Keonhee prepares the laptop and shows a footage of a street with the alleyway on the side. Though the quality is low, they could see embers of fire seep their way on the ground.

"Hongjoong ran away after killing a dear friend. He collided himself with a car on purpose," Hwanhoong adds. "It was a successful suicidal attempt. Maybe his guilt ate him up or something."

"According to investigations, it was Seonghwa's request for Hongjoong to kill him. It's similar to thermal decomposition. The crime scene investigators claimed Hongjoong used Seonghwa's lighter in the process and poured a full-synthetic oil he found lying around on him."

"Incredible," San gapes in amazement. "You took your investigation too far."

"We studied their mental stability. Considering Hongjoong was locked in prison for only a few hours, he'd show no pyschological after-effects. But to talk about his madness makes it difficult to analyze, so we're not sure how he was feeling when he saw Seonghwa after his false arrest."

Keonhee alleges, "but the estimated time of death sums it up. Seonghwa was still alive before Hongjoong burned him. You can see from the corner of the CCTV footage. Seonghwa showed no agitation when Hongjoong was about to set him in fire. He wasn't hesitating. He was ready to die."

"And thus," Hwanhoong claps. "Seonghwa-Hongjoong case closed."

"Wow."

"What about the others?" Jongho asks. "Yeosang? Wooyoung?"

"Sorry? We don't have any cases relating to their disappearance," Gunhak responds. "Nor have we heard any news from them. But we do have another case featuring Yunho and Mingi."

San shots up from his seat. "What about them?"

"We still don't know anything. Not much report has been presented except they died at 13:32. No bullet guns on their bodies, just knife wounds. CSI experts are examining their drug analysis at the moment to determine the reason they killed each other. It's the way we usually do research."

"We need to wait for further proposals from the autopsy reports. Feel cozy in our facility while you're at it."

As the police officers tended back to their own business, Jongho glances at the clipboard. He grabs it by the handle and starts scanning the printed document. He wouldn't want to be bored anyhow.

"Why is this too... Colorful?" Jongho slides his hands over the paper. "Are legal paperworks usually like this?"

San squints. "What do you mean? It's black all over."

"What?" Jongho gasps. "Look, the 'N' is violet. 'A' is red, the 'I' is a dark shade of gray, and the 'T' looks like a faded hue of gold."

"Are you color blind or something?" San questions, his eyebrows narrowed in bamboozlement. "They're all black."

"I'm not color blind! I swear nothing's wrong with my eyesight," he admits. "But honestly, this isn't the first time I've seen something unusually colorful."

"I don't know what you're talking about." San hisses.

"I think I know what are you talking about," Hwanwoong butts in. He grabs the nearest chair and sat on it, now facing San and Jongho. "Judging from what you're wearing, you came from the hospital. Correct?"

"Asylum." San rectifies.

Hwanwoong blinks. "Oh? You don't look crazy in any way."

"Watch your words. You don't know who we are."

"Okay okay geez, you're intimidating!" Hwanhoong shifts his attention from San to Jongho. "So you're from an asylum. You were locked in. Perhaps you developed something... Odd."

Jongho taps his chin. "Odd?"

"You see colors different from the way we do. Maybe you have synesthesia. You were intensively engaged with imaginary abstract concepts while you were confined."

"That... Makes sense," says Jongho. "I've been getting auditory hallucinations from time to time too."

"Uh, just be positive you don't get a serious mental disorder. What you have are symptoms for schizophrenia."

San scratches his neck impatiently. "He's way too gullible for that. No way he'll be schizophrenic."

"If you say so." Hwanhoong smiles. "I'm quite worried about your mental conditions too, you know."

"Sorry to interrupt, but here's the footage of Hongjoong crashing himself into a car," Keonhee fumbles with the laptop and adjusts it in front of Jongho and San. Jongho scoots closer to get a better view of the screen.

The footage shows a figure running recklessly to the streets. He didn't flench when a car honked his way. He smashed his body against the windshield and thus created a serious car accident. A few minutes later did passerbys start to care and gather around to start a ruckus.

"He could've gotten a cerebral damage in the head and undergo a long-time comatose, but apparently he has a weak built and thus had his ribs broken and affect his heart according to the doctors," Gunhak sniffs dramatically. "He cracked his spinal cord too. And the driver said it was too loud."

However, San was looking at the corner, more intrigued by the numerals based on the time and date the footage was taken.

"What time is it? I could've sworn I slept long on a late afternoon and woke up around the same time!"

"I can't relate," Jongho confesses. "I've been confined in a room with no acess to daylight."

"Your room has no windows?" San gawks.

"What did you expect? I've been living in the basement for a long time!"

The cops glance at them, sighing in pity.

"Earth's rotation slowed down. There are scientific explanations behind it, but I won't explain," says Gunhak. "It's only nine in the evening. You escaped well at such a dangerous time in the night. Cannibals are out for flesh."

"We just ran," San answers with a stoic face. "The asylum is a living hell. No one would want to stay there until they die."

"Glad your tail didn't get stuck."

"We don't have tails. Just ass."

Jongho slaps San's thigh, giving him a warning glare. San looks back at him in confusion as he jokingly laughs at his reaction.

"So where do we go next?" Jongho questions, pouting. "We can't stay here forever."

"What else can you think of? There's no more safe areas out there."

"I personally believe our lives aren't at stake. You still have the samples of my blood tuck in your shirt, right?"

"Yeah, I'll inject them later."

"So where do we reside? We're immunes now, we need to find a shelter while the entire planet dies."

"You think we can go out without the government's pets shoving their hands on you? Jongho, you have a bounty on your head!"

Keonhee's ears perk up.

"Bounty?"

Jongho widens his eyes in disbelief, "you didn't need to be loud!"

"What are you two talking about?"

"Uh," Jongho halts. "Wait, we have to ask you first. Are you supportive of the government selling the immune's blood so people will not be affected by the apocalypse?"

"What? Never," Hwanhoong exclaims. "The government is shit even though we work under them. It's just right we all die tomorrow and that's it. I want to go on a permanent comatose anyway."

"Is that so?" Jongho remarks. "Then–"

"He's the immune," San intervenes. "He's the immune for South Korea. That's why I said he has a bounty on his head. The government is after him right now."

"Oh? Nice to meet you," says Keonhee with a grin. "I hope the law enforcers don't find you."

Gunhak heads to the kitchen and comes back with two mugs of hot coffee. "Make yourself comfortable. If you're gonna live much longer than us, then we wish to please you here in our haven."

San and Jongho thank the cops for their hospitality. The cops went back to their respective appointments afterwards, so Jongho and San initiates a conversation with each other while they wait for the other cops to bring home their reports about Yunho and Mingi's case.

"I hope you don't mind if I want you to tell me the others' backstories."

"There's nothing much to talk about anyway. Whose story do you want to hear first?"

"Hm... Seonghwa hyung?"

San gasps, "that guy is a pyromaniac. No wonder he puts up with everyone's bullshit in the warehouse. He's used to seeing fire but also traumatized with fire. He accidentally burned a house in his village and killed his ex."

"Ex," Jongho pauses. "It's been a while since I heard that term."

"Why? You had one?"

"Yeah, I don't know where she is now though. I could've sworn she was still breathing when she died."

"Weird."

"I know. Why was Seonghwa hyung obsessed with sleeping pills?"

"Dunno," San crosses his arms. "Most likely because he's insomniac due to the traumatic event."

"Hm. Hongjoong hyung?"

"I don't know much about him except for the fact he has strict parents. Murdered them and ran away. Established a business and took us in as a new family. That's where the carpentry business began."

Jongho narrows his brows, "why would he kill his parents?"

"Like I said, I don't know much," San glowers. "It's probably a demolished dream career. I'm pretty sure he wished to be a musician someday, but it never happened."

"That... Sounds pitiful."

"You can't be part of our warehouse family if you're not as pitiful and wretched as we are. But now that everyone's presumably dead and the world ends tomorrow, I don't know what more to do about it."

Jongho let silence loom over them, so sharp you could cut through it with a dagger. He studies the regrettable look on San's expression, so heart-rending he could fool you with his emotions.

"You could be a great actor if you can."

"What do you mean? I'm not faking anything."

"I just think you could be good in deceiving."

"I can deceive the devil if I wanted to."

Jongho swats his hand to change the topic. "We're waiting for the results of the Yunho-Mingi case. I've always wondered how Yunho hyung's life is. "

"Ah him," San sips on the coffee Gunhak had offered them. "He's an immune just like you. He's an immune of another country and chose to migrate here as an escapee. It's only fair he has been killed before anyone catches him and have him confined in a laboratory like you."

Jongho feels his jaw drop.

An immune? Like him? Everything makes sense now as to why Yunho drank a shot of Everclear along his daily dose of Levofloxacin or Methyldopa, he still doesn't know which one.

"He didn't want to be held captive. Did he?"

"Yeah, if you put it that way. Yunho never liked confined spaces. And neither did he want to spend a lifetime in a basement laboratory like you."

Jongho understands how Yunho desperately wants to hide forever from the government. He understands how he swore to never expose himself too much from any outdoor activities to avoid being hunted down by interns. Jongho should've done the same if only he wasn't so naive while looking for a part-time job and had long realized it doesn't mean justice if he's offering his blood to people hungry for only their desire to live and survive. If only he'd done the same as Yunho's methods of undergoing an alcohol and drug abuse to destroy his blood cells and eventually demolish his immunity instead of going through an existential crisis. If only.

The door clicks open as three more cops enter. Jongho and San ogles at them, especially at the one holding a brown envelope whose cover has the Hangul letters of the names they've been talking about.

"Hey Seoho," Gunhak salutes. "Done with the second Yunho-Mingi case?"

"Indeed. Youngjo and Dongju closed the case first."

"We're convinced they killed each other with the act of euthanasia," Dongju declares. "Based on the dried blood on the weapons and the timeline we suspected, there's no hint of them committing suicide. Rather, they committed amicicide."

"Hey, put it in layman's term!" San complains.

Dongju glares at him, "euthanasia is the practice of intentionally ending a life to relieve pain and suffering. They were most likely depressed and feeling hopeless at that moment so they committed murder with each other as their victim."

"Amicicide is killing a friend," Youngjo adds. "And they were robbed too. We checked the residue of their burnt house and turns out there were missing things – money, snacks, clothes and other essentials. According to our calculations, we can't track the thieves. They were ahead of us and are geniuses. They used gloves and faux shoes in order to not be tracked."

("I might kill someone if they stole Shiber."

"Who?"

"Shiber. My child."

Jongho chokes on air, "you have a child?"

"Yeah. Why?")

"It's too late to track them. No one lives in that warehouse anymore and the apocalypse starts tomorrow. Therefore, it's best to leave that burglary case unsolved." Gunhak acclaims.

"So are we done for the night?" Hwanwoong asks, his eyes twinkling in anticipation.

"Dismissed."

At Youngjo's command, Hwanwoong cheers mirthfully as the rest grabbed their bags and headed off to their dormitories or to their respective homes to see their families one last time. Hwanwoong gestures for San and Jongho to follow him to the dormitory building. Jongho was dumbfounded by the building's massive interior inside, its spaciousness giving off a mellow and welcoming aura.

"You can stay here for the night. Extra clothes are at the bottom cabin of your assigned rooms just in case. Well, I'm not saying you need to change because you stink as fuck but that's totally what I'm saying."

"We're very much grateful," Jongho bows. "You're too kind."

"It's part of our job," says Hwanwoong. "It's the best thing we want to do for you on par of our service. Most of us are going to die anyway."

San stays silent, only murmuring in a soft voice, "have a nice sleep."

"Nah," Hwanhoong swats his hand. "We'll live our lives to the fullest. The last thing we can do at the moment is get wasted. And get laid too, probably."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, ONEUS as cops🤭 Correct me in any way if I mispelled their real names because I'm only a novice to the fandom :((
> 
> \+ also last chapter will be up on Monday can you believe this is about to end in 72 hours


	13. The Crown of the Twisted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love delaying :P

Timers are everywhere and everyone is in a rush. A few hours more until the earth goes extinct.

There on the rooftop they stood still, fully dressed in casual clothes they borrowed from the policemen and their hair damp from the fresh showers they took just a few minutes ago. They're fifteen floors above ground as they watch the meteors hit earth except the spot they're on. San feels calmer than before, most likely because he injected the samples of Jongho's blood into him a while ago. Candidly enough they're the last men standing alive.

In the midst of canal waters that came from sewerages unfurling on the roads and the extraterrestrial rocks plunging to the skyscrapers, smokes burst into view from almost every buildings on sight. Ambulances and police cars are jamming the few roads not yet flooded with lava. Teenagers are locking themselves in their room and people are hyperventilating each second due to lack of oxygen intake. Some are on a mini purge too as they've considered the fact that now the world is ending, murder is probably not illegal anymore. San and Jongho may not be nice enough to open the door of the rooftop for those who clamorously knocked in impatience to save their lives, but it was for them to accept their fate. When the knocks died out, they began to assume the victim has been either assaulted or suffocated. Regardless of their unsympathy, San and Jongho are safe, sound and out of harm's way.

Jongho speaks first to shatter the silence they basked themselves in.

"So how are we going to fly out of the country? Everything's gonna be in ruins once this apocalypse is over."

"Man, I don't know what's going to happen, but I do suggest we seek for refuge first. By the end of the day, everything is gonna be in ruins as if World War III happened."

"Where exactly?" Jongho questions a bit tauntingly. "There are barely any hope for us. Do you even know how to fly an airplane?"

"Bold of you to assume I learned how to fly an aircraft."

Jongho presses his lips together. The last thing he wants to do is pick a fight with someone who has IED.

"I have one question though. Why didn't you react when they confirmed that the others are dead?"

San snorts. "You didn't see me crying myself to bed last night. I mean, why wouldn't I cry when I think about the times I argued with Seonghwa and going back to good terms without an ounce of apology? I have a lot of regrets. I still think about the time Hongjoong took me in after my mother almost killed me just because of her drug addiction. Yet Mingi's death affected me the most."

Jongho doesn't flinch. "That's understandable. I'm sorry for your loss."

San sniffs. "We all met and lived in tragedy. And they happened to die in tragedy too."

"Point taken," sighs Jongho. "I'm still curious about Yeosang and Wooyoung's whereabouts. Where could've they been?"

"Who knows? Maybe they're just out there lurking around."

"Yeosang must've been out for blood, but what about Wooyoung?"

"Shut up. Don't even think about it."

"I'm just worried," Jongho confesses. "It's bewildering. What if Wooyoung is dead–"

San's knee meets with Jongho's head on purpose, the once mental patient driven in madness. Jongho's skull shakes a bit from the impact of San's strong joint. San's rage didn't stop there. Jongho couldn't spare a second for himself to check up on his broken nose as he is immediately met with San's axe kick straight to the face.

Knocked to the ground, Jongho could barely breathe. It's as if San's kicks are equivalent to a thousands of blades stabbing through his damaged skull. But Jongho couldn't lose. He may have said he doesn't want to get into a fight with someone like San, but he would trade the world to acquire victory and claim himself as a winner. The same thing applies to what he feels now that San is marching his way to Jongho who is still sent to the ground with barely any muscles left in his body to move.

San yanks Jongho by his collar, however, he fails to notice the trick under the younger's sleeve. Jongho hoists his legs up into the air and clings them onto San's shoulders to weigh him down. Thanks to Jongho's incomparable strength, San was bent down to the ground with him under Jongho's triangle choke.

San whimpers in agony. Jongho couldn't care less. It takes a moment for Jongho to feel satisfied in fettering the airway in San's throat as he upheaves his legs with all his might, removes them from San's stiffened shoulders and boots him on his bony cheek with the rigid sole of his shoe.

San staggers back as Jongho regains his conscience. He did the right thing. He wouldn't let his reputation as an immune be stolen by someone who'd kill to achieve his crown. All those times Jongho had his mind stained into dullness and monochrome colors while he spends the whole day staring at the ceiling of his room in the basement, he wouldn't let them go to waste. Either he thinks of the right or wrong, maybe he wants to live more. He was brought to the world as an immune to save humanity, and if that's not happening, the least he could do with his 'special' blood cells is survive and see if the planet still has hopes after the apocalypse. He just wanted to live. Survive and live to see the future he never envisioned it to be.

San wipes the blood dripping down his chin with his knuckles. "Feisty one you are."

"You're one to talk," Jongho shoots back. San kicks him from the front, but before he could, Jongho swiftly grips his ankle and twists it, pulling San's body forward. San is close to losing his balance if not for Jongho holding his feet. Jongho snatches the silver necklace around San's neck and tugs on it. "You shouldn't wear necklaces when fighting."

San chokes for air. Jongho was too brutal that the way he tugged on his necklace was almost lethal enough to leave red marks on his skin. He was decked face front to the ground, eliciting a bleat from the crack of his bones. Jongho hasn't met his satisfaction yet. He stomps on San's neck to pump his adam's apple as if to decapitate him and prevent him from breathing. San lets out a mewl in the process and Jongho catapults him to the rooftop's door. His exerted force was so ferocious San's back was able to unhinge the door and crack his spine.

"I didn't mean to fight." Jongho says, tone so nonchalant and has lack of hospitality.

San grouses, not so convinced as Jongho perambulates towards him. The way San sees it with only one eye (he's too tired to open the other one, not when he's in an excruciating condition), Jongho's catwalk appears as if it came out of an action movie. The flapping rotor blades of helicopters and the incessant explosions of fire from a distance creates a combination of disturbing sounds. There is only one thing sticking close to San's mind, his heartbeat so slow, much slower than Jongho's pace that was threatening him.

Fire. The explosions, the smoke, the foul odor of charcoal diffusing in the earth's atmosphere. Surely there is something close to San related to fire. He tries to stand up and feels something sharp wound his scalp. San doesn't mind about the wound being cut open even if it leads him to blood loss or brain damage. He only minds about the sharp thing, the metal corner of something, something that can possibly save him...

Oh. That's it.

San jolts up from his spot, much to Jongho flinching from his abrupt actions. Everywhere in his body hurts. Everything pricks like hell. If his psychiatrists were to study his mind, they'd call his brain 'a motherfucking bitch' because he's way more corrupt than the world is. That is in psychological terms. He has the same desire as Jongho, the desire to live, the desire he could peek in through only to see darkness and a poor light flashing every five seconds. The darkness is the 99.5% percent of his chance of living to fail and the light being the opposite. As much as it feels hopeless, San wouldn't want to die by Jongho's hands of uncertainty.

San elbows the emergency glass, the shards of transparent porcelain breaking into hundreds of pieces. He immediately grasps the fire extinguisher and gyrates the ring to unlock the operating handle. Jongho stood still on his spot, too slow to process what the other was intending to do as San squeezes the lever and discharges its content.

The foam disseminates around Jongho to the extent San couldn't see him anymore through the fog. Jongho coughs from the suffocating air he didn't mean to inhale. At the same time, San hastes his way to the door and searches for something useful. At the edge of the stairs were splattered blood. Someone might've been on their killing spree on sight. And San is about to do it on the rooftop to one person he used to consider a friend, a friend he now shares the same blood cells with, now that he'd discover a tool he once accustomed to.

San seizes the carpentry tool while a proud smirk grew on his face. He is truly lucky. Surpassed Yunho's fortune, maybe, as he looks back to the younger man whose airways were still being drowned by the foam's chemical.

The foam is gradually diffusing and San could finally see Jongho through the fogged air. The original immune is still coughing, coughing so bad that if San had a heart of consternation at the moment, he would've been concerned for Jongho's dislodged throat.

Jongho was definitely not prepared. He didn't even have the time to look at San through the smoke of foam before the latter launches a jab on his shoulder and another on his lower abdomen. For the last blow, San pushes a kick into his chest, causing him to tumble to the floor. All the ache in Jongho's body won't do him good, and moving a single muscle apparently is not an option.

Jongho can't give up. He can't. But how can't he give up if he's lying helplessly on the surface, weaponless and in pain, and now San is hovering over his numb body with a drill on his hand. By the second San turned on the drill, the sound it's producing is noisy and a rape to the ear. Nonetheless, their monotonous eyes met, reflected with nothing but the sins they will never repent for.

It's quite a magical moment for Jongho. The times he spent with San flashes before his eyes. The clangor of the drill wasn't enough to disturb him from his stream of thoughts. The first time he saw him, his first impression was a normal e-boy who'd shoplift whenever he had the chance. The first actual conversation he had with him was in the convenience store. Now that he thinks about it, San is only a normal boy, a NERVE player who escalated up to a mental patient after sending Mingi to trauma and short comatose, then to an asylum escapee and finally to an immune.

Just like Jongho.

There were countless times Jongho and San's conversation never ended well. The latter always had to be hauled away before they could wrap their talk up and bid farewell. Dragged away by Wooyoung once, dragged away from the cafeteria twice. And the few times they actually talk, they somehow just began to click. It's what Jongho could've looked forward to if only there wasn't an angry bull chained inside him, always triggered when he sees red.

Sometimes Jongho wonders if San was a much more vibrant person than the uncharismatic one he'd always see in the asylum. Sometimes he wonders what had San been doing all along in his room, if he developed signs of losing his sanity from the confinement or if he was being mistreated by the doctors.

Jongho blinks. Mistreated? That's unlikely, unless there was something he was missing. San recovered fast from his leg injury after the brawl with Mingi he never witnessed. It's peculiar, such a skilled kicker to be bound to a wheelchair for a few days, but Jongho never spared a minute to think about that as they had to dash away, far away from the asylum. San is a meticulous person. There are many details Jongho doesn't know bout the former patient.

San is way more different than him, but maybe it's safe to assume they both went through a lot. They struggled to keep their minds intact. Jongho thinks if San lived an ordinary life, he could be helping his grandparents build shelter for the homeless in the countryside and be in charge if the drill. Yet in this lifetime, he ends up slaughtering someone who'd given him his blood to live by planning to maul his throat with a drill as he has always been a driller. Out of all the people he could've killed, it really had to be Jongho. He's a murderer.

Just like his parents.

Don't try. Do it like your life depends on it, San once said when Hongjoong told them about Wooyoung's arrest warrant. Jongho can't even try anything anymore. It feels like he doesn't have a life in the first place. He doesn't have anything to risk his life for.

"Life is wack."

San grimaces. "It would be wackier if I kill you."

To Jongho, the way he said it was somehow alluring. He realizes San is still holding the drill dangerously close to his neck. He'll push the drill to his throat anytime from now. Jongho can't bat a single limb, San's weight is preventing him from sitting up and he can't stir in the slightest. It's over for him.

San scrutinizes the look in Jongho's orbs. There was no flash or twinkle, just two dull eyes filled with nonchalance. There is no vibrant colors on his irises either. Just the sangfroid doldrums and hopelessness.

"Sure."

Jongho didn't stutter. Looking past San, he ogles the sky clouded with nothing but emergency helicopters, polluted smoke and no ozone layer. It's dark, the sun is nowhere to be seen, and most of all, a storm is brewing.

San didn't need to be told twice. The more he stares back at Jongho, the more he was being tempted to commit to his volition. His urge to commit a mortal sin is not a joke.

"Just answer me one thing."

"What?"

"Were you drugged when you were a mental patient?"

San hitches his breath.

"That's none of your business."

The younger man didn't say anything more. He knew San would never answer him.

Jongho breathes his last and shuts his eyes to oblivion. He's mentally dead. He has given up.

San doesn't hesitate to thrust the drill bit to his skin as Jongho's eyes rolled to the back of his brain, choking from the other's brutality. His blood is smearing everywhere, to his emaciated cheek, chin, shirt and even to San's agitated hands, the hands that always showed no remorse. When San felt the tip of the drill bit vibrate against the surface, he figures Jongho would be dead by now. He only tormented his pharynx. The steady beat of his heart is still alive.

Deprived of oxygen and blood, his brain's function deteriorates rapidly. Since circulation takes place in a closed system based on a pressurized environment, blood is pumped in and out of the heart and past the lungs, where it is refreshed once more. San has opened this closed system irrevocably to cause a full and massive drop in blood pressure, leaving his brain starved of both blood and oxygen. He waits for a few seconds until Jongho's consciousness comes to a halt.

He's dead. He's just another wilted flower in a garden of doom. The membrane-lined cavity was dragged out of his bleeding neck that has a wide, open cut to the extent San could actually see the tip of his esophagus. Shrugging it off, he scrambles to his feet at the same time rain started pouring.

He tosses the drill away, not needing it anymore for future uses. He kneels down next to Jongho's pale face and fondly caresses his hair. San had no regrets. He believes it would've been better for Jongho to go earlier than him and cease to live a life he doesn't deserve all along. Jongho held grudges and no hopes. Humanity failed him and he failed humanity.

Sighing, San considers the deed done. As someone who stood by a life of tragedy along with six other boys, he didn't know much about the world. And now he's wondering why the clouds still held waters only to drop them on earth's doomsday.

San peers over the building to hear the cries of townspeople, beaming proudly with the invisible crown on his head. He succeeded. He became an immune by the last minute. He triumphed as the last man standing.

He lives on and on as people die every millisecond. The smile on his face blooms a ray happiness inside him in the midst of a bloodshed. He can never breathe polluted air again.

As for now, dipping like honey in a bloodbath sounds great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 111 146 040 171 157 165 040 162 145 141 143 150 145 144 040 164 150 151 163 040 146 141 162 054 040 164 150 141 156 153 040 171 157 165 040 163 157 040 155 165 143 150 041 041
> 
> -.-- --- ..- .-. -.- ..- -.. --- ... .- -. -.. -.-. --- -- -- . -. - ... -... .-. .. --. .... - . -. . -.. -- -.-- -.. .- -.-- ·-·-·- - --- .... .- ...- . .- ..-. . . .-.. .. -. --. - .... .- - -- -.-- ... - --- .-. -.-- -... . -.-. .- -- . .- .--. .- .-. - --- ..-. -.-- --- ..- -- .- -.. . -- . ..-. . . .-.. . -.-. ... - .- - .. -.-. ·-·-·- .. -.-. .- -. ·----· - . -..- .--. .-. . ... ... -- -.-- --. .-. .- - .. - ..- -.. . . -. --- ..- --. .... -.- -. --- .-- .. -. --. -- .- -. -.-- --- ..-. -.-- --- ..- -... . -.-. .- -- . .- .--. .- .-. - --- ..-. -- -.-- .--- --- ..- .-. -. . -.-- .. -. .-- .-. .. - .. -. --. - .... .. ... .-- .... --- .-.. . .-. --- .-.. .-.. . .-. -.-. --- .- ... - . .-. .-. .. -.. . --- ..-. - .-- .. ... - ... .- -. -.. .. -. - .-. .. -.-. .- -.-. .. . ... ·-·-·- .--. .-.. . .- ... . .- .-.. .-- .- -.-- ... ... ..- .--. .--. --- .-. - - .... . -... --- -.-- ... .- -. -.. ... - .- -. .- - . . --.. --- ..-. -.-. --- ..- .-. ... . .... . .... . .. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..- .- .-.. .-.. --··-- .... .- ...- . .- --. .-. . .- - -.. .- -.-- ...-- ...-- ...--
> 
> Signing out, Soph.


End file.
